Drabbletar: The Fast Entrybender
by Vicki So
Summary: Get your ATLA fix with this series of drabbles on anything and everything Avatar. Comedy, tragedy, cabbages, and more!
1. Simple Fare

**I drank two cups of coffee today and had a nervous spurt of creative energy, so I'm posting a series of drabbles and any other little bitties and ditties I come up with at these spazztastic moments. These will be separate from my Avatar universe stories (_Ho'Wan, Deathly, The Gift_, & _Bent_) unless otherwise stated. As always, I welcome reviews, requests, flames, insights, and so forth.  
**

**I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender**

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Simple Fare

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Cook paced nervously in his tiny kitchen, absently wiping surfaces with a damp rag and cleaning his collection of knives and cleavers. The heavy kitchen door opened with a loud clang and he looked up sharply. 

"Well…?" He asked furtively of the serving man poking his head through the door frame.

The man shook his head silently.

Cook sighed and sullenly jammed the chef's knife point down into the thick round cutting board. Meal number 99, and still no response from the exiled prince.

He reviewed the evening's dinner in his mind: stewed ginger beef, roast pheasant with preserved pickled plums, mouth-watering crabmeat-stuffed mushroom caps, savoury lobster and scallions in white wine sauce, fragrant jasmine-scented rice…

"Did he even notice how I carved the pineapple pieces to look like little piggies in the sweet and sour pork stir-fry?" Cook asked despairingly.

The servant shook his head again and quietly retreated.

Cook didn't understand what he was doing wrong. He was preparing all the delights the prince had been accustomed to in the palace. That same day, he had served poached eggs with salmon roe and dill sauce with fresh, warm flatbread for breakfast. At lunch, the boy was brought stuffed, steamed winter melon with tofu and smoked pork, scallops, and abalone, and a piping hot bowl of shark fin soup.

The boy sent half of every meal back uneaten. Cook knew that for a growing young man, this was unusual and unhealthy. But what could he do about it? He had done his best to make every meal tantalizing and nutritious, and still the boy would only pick at his food until the much less picky General Iroh allowed his nephew to leave the table and slink off into his darkened room.

Three months of this. Three months of begging and bullying vendors for the finest quality ingredients fit to feed a prince. Three months of long hours spent cooking in a hot, cramped navy ship kitchen. Three months of silence from the scarred, exiled boy.

All he wanted to hear was a simple, "Mmm, yummy," or "Thanks, that was delicious." Was that so much to ask?

Frustrated, Cook began preparing the troops' rough meal: brown rice, steamed fish, garlic and greens, winter melon soup, and for dessert, red bean sweets. At least the soldiers and crew appreciated his talents. He himself would eat whatever the prince sent back, sharing the excess with the others, who all quietly disapproved of the brooding prince's waste of food.

Of course, none of the crew would dare to admonish the surly and hot-tempered 14-year-old. That was his Uncle Iroh's job.

Cook settled into the soothing routine of his art as he diced the melon, crushed garlic, sliced ginger, and prepared the soup. The kitchen slowly filled with the subtle aromas of home cooking, and as he worked, he daydreamed about his mother showing him the proper way to fillet a grouper. She had taught him all he knew about the culinary arts, demonstrating all the secrets and special techniques passed down through the generations.

Whenever he cooked, he thought of her, and he wasn't the only one who waxed nostalgic: troops would often poke their heads in and remark how much the smell of his cooking reminded them of home, of families left behind, of mothers or fathers or relatives long dead who "used to cook that exact same thing."

Absorbed in his work over the steaming pots and woks, Cook didn't hear the door creak open.

"What smells so good in here?" A husky voice came.

Cook turned and was shocked to see Prince Zuko peeking into the kitchen. The young man was licking his chops, his gold eyes bright, inquisitive, and… _hungry_.

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END. 


	2. What I'll Miss the Most

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What I'll Miss the Most

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Once again, they had narrowly avoided capture by Zuko and the Fire Nation. Soaring up into the sky on the back of the giant flying bison, Sokka glanced back, watching as the smoking village of Kyoshi dwindled to a glistening point on an emerald island floating on the wide blue sea. He touched his cheek where Suki had gently placed her lips, and knew he would always remember the little hamlet where he had first discovered that strange, new, thrilling sensation he would never again experience.

_I'm really going to miss wearing that dress_, he sighed morosely.

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**Oh, admit it, you know he was totally into that getup.**


	3. Grudges

**Ah! My first real drabble on the Avatar 100 Drabbles Community!**

**A little backgrounder: **This week's challenge is schadenfreude, a word of German origin ("schaden" harm and "freude" joy), that is used to describe that happy feeling you get when something bad happens to someone else. The word "schadenfreude" doesn't need to appear in the drabble.

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**Title: **Grudges   
**Author: **vickiso  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warning: **Bodily functions  
**Challenge: #30:** Schadenfreude

Contrary to popular belief, Momo understood every word the Water Tribe boy said.

"…And if he pees in my sleeping bag one more time, I swear Aang, I will make him dinner!" Sokka yelled, holding the offending stain under the Avatar's nose.

The lemur chattered innocently as Aang cocked an eyebrow at his companion. "Sokka, are you sure it was Momo?"

The water boy let out a strangled cry and trudged toward the river, cursing.

Momo smugly watched the boy in blue go, while his feeder scratched him soothingly under the chin. He purred.

Call _my _ears big, will you?

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**Everybody loves Momo...  
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	4. As The World Falls Down

**For all the fans of _Ho'Wan_ and _Bent_, I give you little post-_Bent _songfic drabble, based on the infamous ballroom scene from the movie _Labyrinth_. This takes place 14 hours after the events in _Bent_.**

**I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, or As the World Falls Down by David Bowie.**

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The giant flying bison set the trio down for the night. They had a huge lead on Prince Zuko's Fire Nation ship, and it was with great relief that they hadn't seen it since leaving the strange cursed island that morning. It meant they could rest for a while, and catch up on some much needed sleep. 

Though she was exhausted, Katara tossed fitfully in her sleeping bag on the cold, hard ground. Nothing from the previous night's experience made sense, and Sokka's explanation was nowhere near satisfactory. Her head was full of strange images and snatches of conversations and sounds heard distantly through the haze of her altogether forgotten dreams. Her skin tingled, and she was keenly aware of her own body heat, as if it radiated from an entirely different being lingering by her side.

But her body's need for sleep eventually won the battle over her brain. As her heavy eyelids drooped, she found the images and whispers blending into a feathery dreamscape done up in watercolours, gauze and blown glass bubbles.

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The Water Tribe girl drifted into a grand ballroom full of music and skirts and silk and sparkles. Lace and sequins floated on the necklines, wrists and up-dos of dozens of beautiful laughing women sweeping around the dance floor in the arms of gallant men. Their laughter and the music they danced to was subdued, as though her ears were stuffed with cotton. Her feet didn't touch the ground as she wandered about. 

She felt lost. She knew she was looking for something, or someone, in this magnificent palace, but she felt so out of place. She was only a simple peasant in her simple blue robes, a shade moving about unseen through the crowds of swirling dancers. Then she noticed something about all the hazy people around her: they all wore beautiful, elaborate masks. The empty eyes passed over her, not even giving her a cursory glance. She was not much to look at, after all.

_If I had a mask, I could join the party_, her dream mind reasoned. And as if by magic, her wishes were heard, and a half mask appeared in her hand. The cat eyes sparkled with silver gems. It seemed to shift in her dream eye, like a forever waxing moon. It had no strap or handle. She just put it on and knew it would fit and stay. And it did.

And the clouded world before her suddenly opened, as though a heavy veil had been lifted off her head.

She was no longer a simple peasant girl. She looked down at herself and found she was wearing the most gorgeous silk gown, the shades of blues and silvers shifting as though she wore the moonlit ocean itself. Her chestnut tresses were loose and sparkled with more gems, stars on a wavy brown sky.

The music swooned. The guests all turned to the dais at the far end of the ballroom and she followed their gazes.

He appeared in regal gold and crimson splendor, his mask a delicate creation of fiery gold blazing in the candlelight. His poise was cool and intense as he scanned the room, searching. The Prince's eye fell on Katara and they locked gazes, gold eyes piercing blue ones.

Katara stood frozen, a breath caught in her throat as he slowly paced toward her from the other end of the room, his gaze unwavering. She was captivated by his eyes, the way the colour shifted behind the mask from amber to gold to shades of yellow she could only name in her dreams. It was like staring into the heat of a candle flame, flickering in a dark room, the only happy light in an otherwise gloomy house.

_There's such a sad love  
Deep in your eyes, a kind of pale jewel  
Open and closed within your eyes  
I'll place the sky within your eyes ..._

The Prince stood before her, every stitch and detail of his handsome uniform clear in the water girl's dream eye, and he gently took her slack hand in his and led her to the dance floor. The water girl felt a flutter in her tummy that slowly spread to her toes. Her feet barely touched the ground as he slid his arm around her waist and placed her hand on his warm shoulder, drawing her close to his warm body.

_There's such a fooled heart  
Beating so fast in search of new dreams  
A love that will last within your heart  
I'll place the moon within your heart..._

He whirled her gently around the floor, pressing lightly against her, her small, cool hand resting lightly in his warm one. _This is so right_, she sighed as she leaned into the prince. Katara knew her search was over. Whatever she had been looking for had found her instead.

Or had it? She wasn't even sure what it was she had been looking for.

She blinked in confusion. Something was wrong. A pang went through her chest as she instinctively drew away, leaving the warmth of his embrace. She turned her back on the Prince and drifted back into the crowd of full satin skirts, still searching for… whatever it was.

Or was she running away out of habit?

_As the pain sweeps through  
Makes no sense for you  
Every thrill has gone  
Wasn't too much fun at all… _

She had to find… that thing… that person…?

_But I'll be there for you..._

The Prince appeared before her once more, watching her impassively, his heavy-lidded amber eyes gazing at her expectantly. The smallest of smiles graced his lips.

_As the world falls down..._

And when Katara looked into those eyes, she felt herself melt like snow in the sun. She was drawn to him, a moth to the flame, inextricably caught in the current, being pulled into the whirlpool of his being...

_Falling…_

He took her in his arms again and held her more closely, stroking her hair. She did not resist his burning touch and leaned into him with another sigh, smiling.

_Falling in love…_

The gold-eyed Prince's soft lips brushed her cheekbone as he whispered hotly in her ear:

_I'll paint you mornings of gold,  
I'll spin you Valentine evenings ,   
Though we're strangers till now  
We're choosing the path between the stars…  
I'll leave my love between the stars…_

But it still wasn't right. She suddenly felt cold. Katara pushed him away. No! This wasn't what she had been looking for! She spun and ran through the ballroom, her heart beating loudly in her ears. She choked back a sob.

_As the pain sweeps through  
Makes no sense for you  
Every thrill has gone  
Wasn't too much fun at all..._

She ran up against the curved wall, finding no exits. She was trapped in this bauble, this little fake world…

_But I'll be there for you..._

The Prince reappeared at her side, still passively watching her. He looked on as though resigned, waiting for his other half to concede to her fate. He would chase her forever across the dancefloor in this little world of theirs. Sun to her moon, they would forever be at odds.

But Katara would fight Fate. And she'd go down fighting.

_A__s the world falls down..._

She reached up and ripped the Prince's brilliant mask off his face.

_Falling..._

He pulled away briefly, but slowly turned to look at her again.

_Falling..._

Kimji stared back at her, looking hurt.

_As the world falls down..._

No.

She grabbed at his face again and tore.

_Falling..._

Zuko.

She gasped, staring at the bright flame-shaped scar on the side of his face where the Prince's gold mask had resided. And yet, this was not right either. She reached up again.

Grab. Tear.

_Falling..._

She didn't know who the next layer was, but she didn't like the shadowy figure resting in the aura of fire. He smply radiated malevolence and hatred.

Grab. Tear.

_Falling..._

And it was The Prince once more, still wearing the gold half mask. Katara inhaled sharply as he grabbed her wrists and stopped her from peeling any more layers away.

He pulled her to him, one hand tangling into her bejeweled hair, and tilted her face up to his. His lips danced against hers, his hot breath brushing her chin and cheeks. Katara couldn't fight the heat. She relented and their lips met in an electric sizzle that melted all her resistance, her very being consumed by his intensity.

_Falling in love..._

It was a literal earth-shattering moment as the ballroom disappeared in a flurry of bubbles and confetti and the water girl floated in a never-ending tumble through the soft void, clinging to the Prince with life, limbs, and lips.

_As the world falls down...  
Falling...  
Falling...  
Falling in love...  
As the world falls down...  
Falling...  
Falling...  
Falling..._

Katara vaguely heard a voice in the back of her mind sing to her:

_Makes no sense at all...  
Makes no sense to fall..._

But as the Prince deepened the kiss, the only sensation she could feel was his warmth, his touch. There was nothing beyond that.

_Falling...  
As the world falls down...  
Falling...  
Falling...  
Falling in love..._

Air. She desperately needed air. She needed to release. Katara suddenly broke the kiss, panting, and the Prince slid out of her embrace like a bolt of silk, tumbling away from her into the darkness. The water girl cried out, reaching for him.

_As the world falls down..._

Down and down she plummeted through the dark, the cold...

_Falling..._

_Falling..._

_

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_

She woke with a start, sitting up in her sleeping bag, shouting. Aang and Sokka both snapped awake at her cry.

"Katara, what's wrong?" Sokka asked in panic, reaching for his club.

The water girl panted, wiping sweat from her brow. Her heart pounded in her chest. She could still hear the ballroom music echoing in her ears.

_Falling in love..._

"Nothing," she murmured. "Nothing... it was just a dream."

_Falling in love..._

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**Thanks for reading and reviewing!**_  
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	5. Qing Ming Jie

**I sat down with the intention of writing a holiday piece, but Winter Solstice is practically Christmas in most parts of Asia, and I figured, heck if they're not celebrating Winter Solstice in ATLA, I guess it must not be big in that universe. Maybe they only celebrate Winter Solstice in the Water Tribes, since it's the longest night and the fullest moon of the year. I imagine the Fire Nation celebrates Summer Solstice, the longest day.  
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**Qing Ming Festival/Quin Ming Jie takes place 106 days after the Winter Solstice. It's literal translation is "Clear Brightness." See if you can figure out what it's meant to celebrate before you Google it.  
**

**I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

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**Qing Ming Jie**

"What do you mean we can't go after the Avatar today?" Prince Zuko asked slamming his teacup down. "We got word that the Avata—"

"The Avatar can wait for today, nephew," Iroh said quietly. "He will not travel far if he values his people and heritage."

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

The retired general Iroh peered up at his nephew from over the lip of his cup. "It's Qing Ming Festival."

Zuko furrowed a brow and clenched his fist. Damn these traditional holidays.

He supposed the whole crew would want to observe the day privately – sailors were a rather superstitious lot, after all. And if the Avatar took this day as seriously as the Fire Nation did, he would not be traveling much either.

"Fine." Zuko got up from the table. "Dock at the next port. Give the crew their leave time. One day only, got that?"

"That's all they need. And Prince Zuko…"

The young man stopped at the door and turned. His uncle smiled at him sadly. "Thank you."

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Zuko's look softened and he nodded, leaving his uncle alone. He went to his meditation chamber and locked the door behind him. He took a small portrait of a beautiful woman out from a leather case kept in a trunk. She was beautiful, with wavy black tresses and gold eyes like his. He placed it before his sitting cushion and kneeled. As he stared at the small painting, the prince thought she resembled Zula more than him. Would she even hear his prayer over his sister's? He wondered bitterly.

He spent the day giving resentful thanks to his mother for bearing him, and for being alive just long enough so he'd always remember the lingering perfume of her warm body.

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Iroh suddenly felt a hundred years older as he ambled over to the shrine in the corner of his room to dust off a tiny portrait of proud looking young man in Fire Nation armour. He filled a tiny teacup with his favourite ginseng blend, and placed a whole orange and a bit of cooked duck meat on a plate. He arranged the odd little meal in front of the portrait and lit some sandalwood incense, letting the fragrant, soothing smoke fill the room.

He prayed. He begged for forgiveness. He cursed himself. No father should ever have to outlive his children.

He spent the day weeping silently for his lost son.

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Elsewhere, the Water Tribe children constructed a little boat with driftwood scavenged from the lakeshore. It wouldn't hold together for long, but it didn't need to. Sokka gently set it in the water while Katara cut a lock of her hair and placed it in the makeshift boat. With a graceful sweep of her arms, the craft rose and rode a little wave out a short distance before it sank silently into the dark water.

Katara fingered the jewel at her neck, her mother's necklace a comforting tie to her broken family. Sokka wrapped a brotherly arm around her shoulders and hugged her as they watched the flimsy craft make its short, doomed journey.

They spent the day wondering about how their father and grandmother were doing.

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The last Airbender sat in silence. He had no graves to sweep clean, no shrines to polish, no great feast to honour his ancestors, and no offerings or incense to burn. But in his own private prayer to Monk Gyatso and to all the Air Nomads long dead and gone, Aang folded up a little origami crane and sent it into the sky on a gust of wind.

He spent the day staring up at the clouds, looking for the lonely paper bird.

It never came back.

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END. 


	6. Family

**Another entry from the w****onderful world of the Avatar100 Drabble community...**

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**Title:** Family  
**Author:** vickiso  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warning:** None  
**Challenge #25: Rewriting The Past**

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**Family **

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At 14, the bright-eyed boy was the youngest the platoon had ever seen. Too young. But his Firebending skills were too good to pass up, especially in these desperate times as they fought a losing war against the Earth Kingdom.

It was with a pang of guilt that the commander smilingly handed the young man his new uniform. His death warrant.

_What kind of father sends his teenage son to the front lines to die?_ He asked himself for the hundredth time.

_That poor kid._ He watched as Zuko, the newest member of the 41st, eagerly saluted his new family.

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	7. Freedom

**I'm a huge Buffy the Vampire Fan. I wrote this in response to one of the Avatar 100 challenges, but it went way over 500 words and I didn't feel like editing it down. I liked it too much.**

**I respect Joss Whedon and the other writers of _Buffy _and _Angel _a great deal. I had to, had to, had to use this infamous scene for a Zutara drabble. Had to. My apologies to them, fangirl that I am.  
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**That said, I do not own _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ or _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_. Joss Whedon is my master now.  
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**Freedom**

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**Title**: Freedom  
**Author:** vickiso  
**Word Count:** 720  
**Warning:** Explicit sexual overtones, minor swearing, general hotness.  
**Challenge #24: **Crossover 

Katara wasn't used to going to places like the Bronze Inn and Tavern, but she was feeling reckless. After she'd finally decided to ditch Aang and Sokka to make her own way in the world, she found she could take as many chances and risks as she wanted and have only herself to worry about. She could do anything now. Anything. No more silly boys or grand missions to take to task. No more desperate running from the defeated rogue Fire Nation. No more "shoulds" or "have to's". It was all about Katara now.

She paced around the room, taking in its occupants as they drank and belched and generally made a ruckus. Fascinating, what people did with their freedom.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her arm and spun her around roughly.

"You!"

The reflexive plunge of her heart to her stomach and ensuing panic gripped her momentarily before she realized this no longer had to be the case. She was a Master Waterbender. She'd helped the Avatar defeat Fire Lord Ozai two years ago. She was undefeated in battle. She was practically untouchable.

So she nearly cackled with glee as she came face-to-scarred face with Prince Zuko.

Oh, this would be fun.

"Where is he? Where's the Avatar?" He demanded.

"Oh _Zuko_," she drawled, batting her lashes. "Not even a 'hello Katara, nice to see you?' Really, I thought princes were bred with more manners." She brushed his hot hand away gently, letting her fingertips rest a moment too long on his skin. "Then again, you always were to-the-point, weren't you?"

She watched with great satisfaction as the prince's usual look of righteous fury and determination dissolved into one of confusion. He furrowed his brow and shoved her into a darkened corner of the tavern away from curious on-lookers' prying eyes.

"Tell me where he is and I won't hurt you." He backed her into the wall, hands placed on either side of her head.

Two years ago, she would have looked away from those burning gold eyes, pushed him away and run screaming out of fear for Aang and her brother.

Now, not so much. She forced her eyes to haze over and smiled tightly, pursing her lips ever-so slightly. The effect was impressive. The Water Tribe woman turned the full power of her smoldering gaze upon the exiled Fire prince and he flinched.

"Go ahead. Hurt me. You know you want to." She breathed, languidly stretching her arms up over her head as she leaned against the wall, arching her back.

Zuko recoiled, shocked by the girl's forwardness. Where had this come from? Where was the fear he'd grown accustomed to?

She let out a throaty laugh. He snarled at her.

"You know why I really hate you, water wench?" He glowered.

"Cause I'm a stuck-up tight-ass with no sense of fun?" She asked innocently.

Zuko balked. "Well… yeah, that covers a lot of it."

"Cause I can do anything I want, and instead I chose to pout and whine and feel the burden of saving the world?" Katara took a step toward him, hooking a fingertip beneath his breastplate and easily pivoting him around. She gave him a light shove, backing him up against the wall and he stumbled, caught completely unawares.

"I mean, I could be rich. I could be famous. I could have anything. Anyone. Even you, Zuko." She locked onto his wide gold eyes, letting her gaze flicker down to his trembling, parted lips. She pressed into him, one hand against his armoured chest. "I could ride you at a gallop until your legs buckled and your eyes rolled up. I've got muscles you've never even dreamed of. I could squeeze you until you popped like warm champagne, and you would beg me to hurt you just a little bit more. And you know why I don't?"

Zuko tilted his head, his unfocused eyes fixed on her glossy, parted lips.

She leaned in, her hot breath grazing the prince's pale, unmarked cheek. "Because it's _wrong_."

His sweating hands made to grab her around the waist, but by then she had already pushed him away and was languorously making her way to the exit.

Katara left the prince panting in the hot, dark corner, staring hungrily after her. She smiled.

Oh yes, freedom was _soooo _good.

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	8. The Driver's Seat

**Another drabble challenge from Avatar 100... this time, it's about Insomnia.**

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The Driver's Seat

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**Title**: The Driver's Seat  
**Author**: vickiso  
**Word Count**: 100  
**Warning**: None.  
**Challenge** #31: Insomnia

"_North. Must travel north." _

"…_Anchor in Kyoshi Bay? Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you about that Unagi thing."_

"_North again. And now the wind is against us…"_

"…_South to avoid Zhao? Well, okay, but it's going to be a long—"_

"_Northwest? The Avatar? Fine..."_

"…_There's no port in Omashu, idiot…"_

"_Damn you Zuko, why don't you just catch one of the Avatar's companions and have them come to you? Then I wouldn't have to keep steering the ship all over the place!"_

The crew peered at the helmsman with raised eyebrows as he mumbled in his sleep.

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	9. All the Kids Are Doing It

**Also posted at the Avatar100 Drabble community... and I'll just reiterate now that I don't own Avatar, and I don't have any money. So don't sue me.  
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**Title:** All the Kids Are Doing It  
**Author:** vickiso  
**Word Count:** 180  
**Warning:** None.  
**Challenge #33: Scandal**

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** All the Kids Are Doing It**

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A sweet, heady aroma lingered in the teen's bedroom. 

Rummaging through the prince's underwear drawer produced nothing more scandalous than a pair of threadbare boxers. The rest were immaculate. And folded.

Iroh had already checked the obvious places, but Zuko was known to squirrel things away from his sticky-fingered uncle.

He pawed the undersides of drawers, searched the lining of a chest, and delved deep into the prince's armoire. He even checked for secret compartments in the desk.

Nothing.

As he sat down on the teen's futon, the obvious hit him. Where else would a teenager hide his most shameful secrets?

He lifted the corner of the mattress and found the stash in a wood box.

Iroh smirked triumphantly. He knew it. He could smell it burning on those particularly bad days when the Avatar had slipped through Zuko's fingers yet again. Sandalwood incense was extremely soothing, after all.

Sandalwood, Iroh laughed inwardly. The prince never ceased to surprise him.

Of course, the blue and white mask glaring at him from under the bed did not surprise Iroh one bit.

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**A quick note to my "fans" about ****_Captured! The Zutara Musical_: I am nearing the end of the major writing, so you may not see the first chapter up for another couple of weeks. In the meantime, for the full musical experience, go and (buy) ACQUIRE (/buy) a whole bunch of Aimee Mann CDs and songs. My favourites are the _Magnolia_ Soundtrack and the _Live at St. Ann's Warehouse_ compilation. But I sample from all her work. 8 )**

**Thanks for reading! **


	10. The Learning Curve

**I'm dedicating this piece to wilderness-writer, who suggested I make one of my comments to her into a drabble. **

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**The Learning Curve**

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They walked side by side, hands brushing as they stepped through narrow parts of the beaten path. Each time Katara felt those warm fingertips against her skin, she shivered, an electric thrill coursing through her spine.

A waterfall hovered into view and they made a beeline straight for it. Zuko knew how much the delighted Waterbender loved scenic little nooks like this, which was exactly why he'd led her here.

She giggled like a schoolgirl as she ran to the shore, bending a small wave in her wake and playfully splashing the prince across the face. His eyes widened in surprise and he rushed her, countering her attack with a splash of his own.

They laughed and splashed and got tangled up each other's arms until Zuko was holding the flushed girl still, one arm around her waist, the other around her shoulders.

Their eyes met, cold blue burning into bright gold, and Katara's heart fluttered, seeing his gaze flicker to her parted lips.

He leaned forward and she closed her eyes. They'd been wanting, waiting so long for each other…

The world disappeared when they embraced. They stood for what seemed like a long time, lips locked, arms around each other.

And when they finally came up for air, they mirrored one another's disappointed, disgusted, horrified looks.

"What have you been EATING?" Zuko smacked, frowning, tongue lolling out.

"You're one to talk! You taste like ashes!" Katara countered, wiping the slimy wetness from her lips.

"No, seriously, what do you do? Eat rotting fish?" He made a face, rubbing ineffectually at his lips.

"Well, maybe if you hadn't been trying to choke me with your tongue, you wouldn't need a breath mint so bad!" Katara cried back.

"So what was with the sucking? I'm not a lollipop!" He gingerly poked at his sore tongue.

"I was trying to breathe! If your long, pointy nose wasn't mashed against mine, I wouldn't be gasping for air! And where do you think your hands were going? If you'd gone any farther south, you would have found my knee in your south pole!"

"That was my first kiss, and _you _ruined it!" He shouted.

"No, YOU ruined MY first kiss!" Katara screamed back.

"Peasant!"

"Brat!"

"Wench!"

"You arrogant, stubborn, anal-retentive, psychotic—"

Katara quickly discovered that Zuko was a fast learner.

* * *

**Everyone go read _Dangerous Ground_. Wilderness-writer's kissing scene is better than a chocolate-covered Zuko.**


	11. Do You Know How I Know?

**This one goes out to my boyfriend John, who encouraged me to go ahead and write this. He even gave me a couple of lines, so I guess a co-writer's credit is in order. Props to my honey.  
**

**A couple of notes:  
1) I have nothing against gay people. I love The Gays.  
2) Go watch _The 40-Year-Old Virgin. _It makes a great New Year's Eve flick.  
3) If you're offended... well, I guess there are worse things not to be offended by, and that in itself is offensive... and now I've gone cross-eyed...  
**

* * *

** Do You Know How I Know...?**

* * *

It felt like they'd been at it for years, four old guy friends accustomed to each others' jibes. They lounged in the sun, baking on the deck of Zuko's ship, lazily staring up at the clouds while trying to outdo each other in a deadpan word-bending battle they'd started last week. 

Being a clean-living monk, Aang wasn't great at this game, but at least it was better than playing 'I Spy'.

"Do you know how I know you're gay?" Aang asked without looking at the Water Tribe boy. "You like wearing dresses."

"It's a warrior's uniform," Sokka yawned, "Brave blood and honourable heart… something, something…"

Aang smirked and let the water boy have his turn.

"Do you know how I know you're gay? The arrow tattoo on you butt says 'This Way Up.'"

Iroh chuckled. "Do you know how I know you're gay?" the old Firebender volunteered, "You named your staff 'Little Aang'."

"Do you know how I know you're gay?" Aang smiled at the old man across from him, "You actually _shop _for tea."

"Do you know how I know you're gay?" Sokka murmured, "You make jewelry out of fishing line. _Fishing line_, Aang."

"Do you know how I know you're gay?" Zuko muttered to his uncle, "You've spent the last two years surrounded by seamen."

"Do you know how I know you're gay?" Iroh countered, "You've spent the last two years trying to get your hands on a 12-year-old boy."

"Do you know how I know you're gay?" Sokka sighed, "You really, _really _like that Sungi horn."

"Do you know how I know you're gay?" Zuko purred, "Cuz' your sister told me so last night."

"Leave my sister out of it," Sokka warned half-heartedly, "And Zula won't find out about the shoes you took from her closet."

"They're orthopedic," Zuko grumbled sleepily. "And stylish, to boot."

As if on cue, they heard shrieking from the two girls who'd been romping on the beach below. All four jumped from their seats and ran to the railing, prepared for battle.

Their jaws dropped at the sight of the Katara and Zula engaged in a passionate kiss.

Aang grinned at the fire and water brothers' baffled stares.

"Hey… do you know how I know _they're _gay?"

* * *

**Challenge: If you have any more "Do you know how I know..." lines, send them my way and I'll credit you in a fanfic compilation!**


	12. Strangers in the Night

** A little drabbling for fun...**

* * *

**Strangers in the Night **

* * *

"So who do you think he is?" 

The trio crept through the forest, following the lithe figure ahead of them.

"I don't know, but if he's springing us from a Fire Nation prison camp, he's a good guy in my books," Sokka whispered to his sister.

"Quiet," Aang hissed from the rear.

They trudged on in silence, barely able to make out their guide's shadowy form in the darkness. Only the occasional flash of the moonlight told them where he was.

"He's so… fast," Katara smiled in the dark. "Like a cat."

"Shh!" Aang insisted.

They came to an unused crossroad. Their guide stopped and turned. He wordlessly pointed out a footpath with the flick of a broadsword and waited for them to depart.

The three started for it, but not before each thanked their mysterious rescuer.

"We owe you," Sokka gave a short salute and started up the path.

Katara shyly whispered her own thanks and turned to go, but suddenly changed her mind, pivoting on her heel. She leaned up and pecked the stunned figure quickly on the cheek before following her brother.

Aang stood there a minute, staring, facing his new friend, his old nemesis.

The blue and white face stared back impassively.

Silence hung between them.

"You're such a fucking _hero_." Aang snarled before dashing after his companions.

The figure grinned beneath his mask and headed off in the opposite direction.

* * *

** I (heart) the Blue Spirit.**


	13. Competition

* * *

**Competition **

* * *

In all things, the Avatar and the Fire Prince were competitors.

"C'mere boy! C'mere!" Aang squealed, reaching both arms out to the lemur.

"Momo… who do you love _moooore_?" Zuko sang.

The lemur sat stunned by his master's and the prince's pleas for attention.

"Don't listen to him, Momo! He's going to try to EAT you!"

"Hey! Do I look like _Sokka _to you?" Zuko scowled. Aang stuck his tongue out.

The young Avatar took a bit of string with a ball of fluff attached to one end out of his pocket. "Look Momo! Look who's got your favourite toy!"

Zuko arched an eyebrow and produced his trump card. "Hey Momo! Look who's got a juicy apple for you!" he dangled the fruit before the lemur.

"No fair!" The monk protested. Zuko smirked at the boy and resumed his coaxing. "Come here, Momo. I'll scratch your belly and give you lots of cuddles—"

"Momo," Katara called softly.

The flying lemur's head swiveled at the girl's voice. He bounded toward her and leapt into her arms. She cradled the creature at her breast and tickled his chin, and he emitted a low purr.

"Poor boy, are they bugging you again? You just stay with me away from those nasty boys…" she cooed, and walked away.

Bereft, Aang and Zuko watched her go, green with envy.

Aang kicked at the dirt. "Rats."

"Damn lucky lemur," Zuko muttered.

* * *

**Yeah, yeah, Zuko's OOC. Well, not really, if you follow my latest story, _Captured! The Zutara Musical_!  
Do I get points for pimping myself?**


	14. New Clothes for New Year's Day

**Happy Lunar New Year! **

**New Year's is my favourite holiday - you get money, food, new clothes, shopping... it's great!**

**So with that in mind, let's look in and see what our favourite crew is up to... **

* * *

** New Clothes for New Year's Day**

* * *

He may have been a surly prince, but Zuko loved Lunar New Year's Day. 

"Ooh, look'it that!" Iroh grabbed his nephew's hand and dragged him through the marketplace to a stall selling fried neen gow, a glutinous dessert Zuko had always enjoyed, though he had never figured out what it was made of.

His uncle paid the vendor and handed the young man a paper wrapped brick of the sweet, sticky, orange-coloured jelly cake. Zuko bit into it, and was instantly filled with nostalgia.

"It was good of you to let the crew off for the day," Iroh commented, wiping his mouth.

Zuko made a noise, not wanting to seem too nice. "You know how superstitious that lot is. It's bad luck to work on New Year's, you know that."

Iroh chuckled. "Then I suppose that means you're not looking for the Avatar today."

The prince bristled. He had never been superstitious himself, but he still clung to the traditions of New Year's Day, and indulged his uncle by partaking in the festivities.

"No uncle. I won't chase the Avatar today," Zuko sighed. He didn't want a year's worth of bad luck, after all. In any case, what were the chances he'd bump into the monk here?

* * *

"I love New Year's!" Aang sang, dodging from stall to stall. His head snapped around, his eyes growing wide as he took in the bright red and gold banners and decorations adorning the stalls and shops. 

"I dunno… this reminds me too much of that Fire Festival," Sokka said.

Katara smirked. "C'mon Sokka. They just celebrate it differently in the Earth Kingdom," she perused a stall of good luck charms and trinkets. "Everyone celebrates Lunar New Year."

"It's just not the same without smoked whale blubber," the water boy sighed.

"Too bad we don't have much money," Katara said morosely. "It would be nice to get some new clothes and a few sweets."

"You need money?" A gruff voice hollered. The three turned as a portly middle-aged Earth Kingdom woman came out of her tent. "You're a very pretty girl. Right size, too. I need someone to model my clothes and draw some customers. You work for me, and I'll pay you five silvers for the day. Your friends can help me move some stock from my shop, and I'll pay them each three silvers. How about it?"

The three looked at her tent, full of silks and satin dresses. Katara's eyes glittered. She had never seen so many beautiful things altogether before.

"Hey! How come she gets paid more for just standing around and looking pretty?" Sokka whined indignantly.

"You wanna wear dresses? You can trade places," the vendor barked gruffly. The Water Tribe warrior snapped his mouth shut. "So you wanna do it?"

Katara nodded enthusiastically. Eleven silvers could get them to the North Pole in style. Inns! Food! No sleeping on the cold hard ground for them!

The vendor roughly grabbed her wrist and hauled her toward the tent, while a little boy, probably her son, led the boys away to the shop further down the street.

* * *

"Uncle, I really don't think I need any new clothes," Zuko shifted uncomfortably in the silk jacket. It was fit for royalty, red and gold with dragons embroidered all over it, but it really didn't suit him. It was just so… tacky. 

"Nonsense," Iroh held up the matching pants and Zuko groaned inwardly. "You know you have to wear something new today. And that tunic is threadbare."

"It's comfortable," Zuko defended his favourite shirt. "And you know I don't go for silk."

Iroh sighed. "Let's go to another stall, then, shall we?" Zuko stripped the jacket off in relief, and handed it back to the crestfallen shopkeeper.

The two Firebenders strolled down the walk. Many of the shops had opened sidewalk stalls and tables, and children gleefully weaved through the crowd, waving pinwheels and flags and kites. Zuko, normally put off by small children, hid a small smile. He had been one of those children, once.

"Ooh, tea sale!" Iroh bounded off and Zuko sighed.

"I'll be down the way, Uncle," he called to his thoroughly distracted relative. The prince put his hands in his pockets and picked his way through the crowd, pulling his straw rice paddy hat low over his face as he passed a gaggle of pretty girls in long silk qipao. Those dresses had always disturbed him, for some reason. They just fit too nicely, making even the ugliest girl look like a lady of the court.

"Happy New Year, cutie," he nearly bumped into one of them. "Wanna come see the lion dances with me?"

Zuko growled and snapped his chin up. The pimply girl gasped at his scar.

"S-sorry, I thought… I thought you were someone else…" the girl paled and scurried back to the safety of her girl gang. Zuko stalked away.

Even on New Year's, people could be so mean.

"Cheongsam and qipao! Finest quality anywhere!" A harsh woman's voice called. Zuko tried to skirt around her, but she grabbed his arm and held him in her vice-like grip.

"You! You look like you're in search of some new clothes," she stared into his face, grinning, unfazed by his scar. "A nice new cheongsam for you – something simple, I bet. Black and red. Linen or cotton. Is that what you're looking for?"

Zuko was about to protest, but she had him pegged. "Uh… yeah," he uttered. _Might as well get this over with. That way Uncle won't have a say in what I pick._

The woman pulled him toward the stall. "Come! Come see my fine merchandise! I have the perfect thing for you." She practically threw the boy into the carpeted tent. "Katara! Bring the young man the black and red linen from the back."

_Katara?_ Zuko knew that name…

"Did you mean this—" The water girl appeared in a sleeveless gold silk qipao. Her eyes fell on the stunned prince and she gaped.

Zuko couldn't help it. He grinned, his eyes traveling along the length of her slender body. She was absolutely stunning in the dress, her thin, tapering arms meeting her lean shoulders, her long willowy neck holding her proud chin high above the buttoned mandarin collar. In a couple of more years, she'd fill out beautifully. "Hello, peasant."

Katara was paralyzed. She stood there, staring at the _smiling_ prince, feeling suddenly very naked. She should have run. She should have thrown the garments at him and bolted, found Aang and Sokka, and fled.

But she couldn't move. Mostly because the tight, fitted dress didn't allow for much movement.

"Well, what are you standing there for, Katara, help the young man!" The vendor hissed. "I'm going to round up more customers. If you make a sale, I'll give you a commission, alright?"

Katara gawped. Zuko continued to smile at her as the vendor exited the tent.

"What are you doing here?" She growled lowly, backing away.

"Happy New Year to you too," he said, smirking. "I was getting new clothes for the day, if you must know."

"Well, Aang's not here with me," she lied, "So you might as well get your clothes and get out."

Zuko stuck his lip out petulantly. "I don't _work_ on New Year's. It's bad luck, you know," he smiled wickedly as he approached her. He had made that promise to his uncle, after all, and this Earth Nation city was no place to be getting him and the infamous Dragon of the West caught. But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy himself.

The Waterbender backed into a rack of dresses as he stepped up to her. "Incidentally, I have other clothes I need to shop for." He scooped the linen cheongsam out of her arms and reached out, leaning into her as he plunged a hand into the rack of dresses, pulling one of the qipao off the bar.

"I'd like to see you in this," he said simply, smirking.

"I… what?"

"You heard him!" the vendor called from outside. She had obviously been keeping an eye on her customer, her employee, and her merchandise. "Go put it on and let him see how it looks!"

Katara went red with fury and humiliation. Zuko watched her expectantly, his gold eyes full of cruel laughter.

She snarled and grabbed the red qipao from him, stalking behind the curtain to change.

She couldn't believe this. Of all the places to meet the smarmy prince…

She emerged in the red short-sleeve dress and huffed. "There. Happy?"

Zuko eyed her, appreciating the girl's fine curves and dark, flawless skin. If their situations were different…

"Try this one," he held out a long-sleeved green dress with a gold phoenix emblazoned on the front. Katara stuck her tongue out. She thought it was hideous, but as long as she was trapped in a tent full of silk with the Firebender, she would do as he asked.

She came out a minute later wearing the dress and Zuko laughed out loud, pointing. "You look like a grandmother!"

"Well, thanks ever so much, your highness," she said in clipped tones. His laughter was unnerving. "Are you going to buy something or not?"

"I haven't even started," he purred. He randomly pulled five more dresses off the racks and handed them to her, then sat down, languishing on the cushioned bench set out for serious buyers.

"What the hell are you going to do with a silk dress?" She cried in exasperation, staring at the pile in her arms.

Zuko waggled an admonishing finger at her. "It's not your place to ask, _peasant_. Your job is to make me, the paying customer, _happy_." He lingered on that last word, gazing suggestively at her from heavy lidded eyes.

Katara let out a strangled cry. She stomped back behind the curtain and changed into the next gown as quickly as she could, not wanting to be naked any longer than she had to with the prince in the room. She could practically _feel_ his eyes on her through the heavy curtain, and it made her shudder.

She came out once more, wearing a plum-coloured dress embroidered with flowers. The prince tilted his head and made a twirling motion with his finger. Katara pirouetted around, though she would have preferred to hunch and glower. Unfortunately, the dress was too tight for that, too.

"Hmm, not quite your colour," the prince drawled and waved her away to try on the next dress. Katara complied, thinking furiously. He was definitely stalling, waiting for Aang to return so he could snatch him away. As she slipped on the next dress, she looked around the tent for another way out. She supposed she could try to tear a hole in the canvas and slip out, but she couldn't run in one of these dresses, and didn't have her own simple robes and leggings to change into – the vendor had taken her clothes and her mother's necklace as collateral in case she had thought to bolt with one of the expensive qipao, and she was not about to leave those behind.

"What's taking you so long back there?" Zuko called mockingly. "Did you need my help doing up the back?"

"Keep your pants on!" She practically screamed, and she turned crimson at her poor choice of words. She strode back into view and faced the sneering prince once more.

She went through half a dozen more dresses in this fashion, each one making her more and more cross. The silk no longer felt smooth and cool on her skin – it grated against her flesh, like the prince on her nerves.

She picked up the last qipao in the pile, a dark navy gown with gold piping and tiny red flowers embroidered into it. She stepped out from behind the curtain, expecting to see another random pile of dresses awaiting her.

Zuko stared. The smirk was gone, and his face grew a little paler. His lips parted ever-so-slightly to form an "oh".

Katara glared back at him. "What?"

The prince shut his gaping mouth and swallowed. "Yeah. Okay. That's the one."

She felt her skin tingle as he got up from his seat and hesitantly approached her, amber eyes fixed on her face. The tent suddenly seemed to grow warmer as he paced around her, exploring the pattern of the dress dancing over her form. He reached out tentatively to touch her, but snatched his hand away.

"I—" Zuko stumbled back a few paces. "Sorry, I…" His cheeks flushed as Katara stepped away from him, shocked.

"Here," he fished through a pouch and handed her enough money to pay for the cheongsam and the dress. He pressed the warm coins into her palm, and his fingers lingered against her cool skin for a moment before he turned to leave.

The Waterbender was bewildered. "Wait!" She called after him, though she didn't know why she wanted to stop him from leaving. She pointed at herself. "Don't you want the dress?"

Zuko pursed his lips, gazing at her guiltily. "It's for you."

And he left the water girl holding his money.

* * *

"Zuko! You found something!" Iroh beamed, his arms full of several satchels of tea. 

The prince's face remained stoic. "Yeah."

"It looks like it suits you. Did you try it on?"

"No."

"Well how did know it would fit if you didn't try it on?"

"I just know," Zuko replied blandly.

Iroh snorted. "I wish your mother could have passed her shopping genes down to you. She would have made you try it on before you bought it," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I remember she used to go shopping all the time, and would always buy those beautiful qipao dresses for her handmaidens and servants for New Year's. She always wore the same one, though," the old general sighed, reminiscing. "I loved that blue dress."

"I remember it, Uncle," Zuko said lowly. "Come on. I want to go see the lion dances."

* * *

**May the Year of the Dog be a wonderful and prosperous one to all you Fanfiction writers and readers!**

**Fan note: ATLA Book 2 is slated to start March 17!**


	15. Toast

**Another Avatar 100 drabble to while away the time... **

**

* * *

**

** Toast**

**

* * *

Title:** Toast  
**Author:** vickiso  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warning:** none  
**Challenge #19: Lessons**

"ARRRGGHH!" Aang dashed a handful of crummy ash to the ground, clenching. "I CAN'T DO THIS!"

"Aang, focus," Zuko sighed. "You need to master this move before you can proceed to the advanced set."

"This is stupid," the monk hissed, snatching up another bread slice. "I should be learning how to shoot fireballs from my feet, not make toast!"

"Making toast is a delicate process that requires patience and fine control of your inner fire." Zuko intoned sagely. "You're just lucky Uncle Iroh's not the one training you."

"Why?"

Zuko grimaced. "Because he'd make you eat every piece you burned."

* * *

**I just put together a Zutara fanvid and would love to hear feedback on it.  
Go to: http// media. putfile . com / White-Flag---Avatar-Zutara  
Copy, paste, remove the spaces, and go. Lather, rinse, and repeat.**  



	16. His Father's Command

**From drabble land... avatar100 **

**

* * *

Title:** His Father's Command  
**Author:** vickiso  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warning:** none  
**Challenge****#38**: Domestic Chores

* * *

**His Father's Command **

* * *

"Your armour is a part of you, Zuko" Lord Ozai explained, rapping his knuckles against the breastplate. "It is nearly impenetrable. It lends its strength to you. It will inspire fear in your enemies. But do not get it wet, or else it will rust and weaken. Always clean it yourself. Take good care of it, and it will not fail you." 

Zuko had always taken pride in the task because his father had commanded it.

But when the water girl coyly invited him to abandon his shell on the beach to go swimming, his father's command went entirely unheeded.

* * *

**FYI - I've put my Zutara fanvid up on YouTube as well. Check out my profile for the URL. Happy Valentines' Day!**  



	17. The End of the World

**I was inspired to write this after reading Jakia's _Unmatchmakers _which had me in stitches. Everyone, go read it, if you haven't already. This one's for Jakia.  
**

* * *

**The End of the World**

* * *

The royal astrologist predicted the world would end that day. 

"It's just a solar eclipse," Zuko huffed, standing on the balcony overlooking his kingdom. "Bad omens. _Pfah_. When will these people get over their silly superstitions?"

"In the Water Tribe, a solar eclipse was considered a blessing," Katara said, looking up at the clear blue sky. "It was one of the only times the moon dominated over the sun. Funny how that translates, isn't it?" She smirked over her shoulder.

Zuko glowered at the back of her head as she squinted at the great fiery orb overhead. A third of it seemed to have been scooped out, like a golden melon rind hanging in the sky, as the moon's shadow journeyed across its burning face.

"You really shouldn't stare at the sun, dear girl," Iroh warned. "You'll damage your eyesight trying to see the eclipse."

The young Fire Lord snorted. "Let her go blind," he sneered. "Perhaps her aim will improve."

Katara's head snapped around. She scowled at the teenage monarch. "I've beaten you fair and square more than half the times we've sparred! If you weren't—"

"Hey guys! Check it out!" Aang and Sokka came out onto the balcony, interrupting the imminent shouting match. They set down a large black box on folding bamboo legs. It looked like the upper half of a tiny closet. One side of the wood box had a thick black curtain on it. Aang drew this across and stepped into the little booth. "The astrologist has a bunch of these up in the observatory for watching the eclipse! Here Katara, have a look."

Katara brightened with curiosity as she stepped into the tiny space with the Avatar, entirely ignoring or forgetting whatever Zuko had said to irritate her. Aang drew the curtain closed so that all the outsiders could see were two pairs of feet pointing toward the far wall of the box's interior, where the reflection of the eclipse would appear. There was a moment of murmuring before the group heard the Waterbender gasp pleasantly.

"Oh!"

Iroh gave his nephew a sidelong glance. The corners of Zuko's mouth tightened.

"Sokka, you said there were more of these booths?" The old general inquired.

The water boy nodded enthusiastically, eager to see the eclipse himself. "Hey Aang! Get out of there and let's get a couple more! This should be a spectacular show!"

The curtain flipped back and the young monk bounced out, beaming.

"I'll come with you," the old general volunteered.

Iroh followed the two boys through the palace and up the winding stairs to the observatory, leaving the young benders on the balcony alone together. The observatory was a domed room atop the palace, inhabited by the lone astrologist who, thankfully, was nowhere to be found on this day, the so-called end of the world. A narrow balcony ringed the room, and numerous telescopes were mounted on the railing.

"Let's set up here, shall we?" He suggested brightly. "It'll be a better view from higher up."

The boys agreed and in a few minutes, each of them was holed up in his own little closet, watching the thumbtip-sized reflection on the inside wall of the booth as the shadow of the moon overtook the blazing sun spot.

Poking his head out of the curtain and seeing the boys entirely absorbed by the celestial phenomenon, Iroh tiptoed to one of the observatory's numerous telescopes. He pointed it at the balcony below and to the right and peered through the eyepiece.

The old man grinned. In the scope's view, just below the hem of the lone booth's concealing curtain, he spotted two pairs of feet. Only they were pointing in at each other, one delicate foot resting lightly on a toe; arched, still.

* * *

**The moral of the story: don't stare at an eclipse without the aid of a hot prince.**


	18. Patience

**This drabble was written on Storybender's request. Enjoy!**

**

* * *

**

** Patience**

* * *

It was an ancient art that had nothing to do with breath or muscles or fire. It was purely about quiet and patience. Lots of patience

He slipped over the wall, landing noiselessly on the fine grey gravel. He slithered through the inky dark, adjusting the broadswords on his back, making sure they were within easy reach. Though with enough patience, he wouldn't need them.

A guard paced by, blissfully unaware of his black-clad form crouching in the shadow of the tower. He could have knocked him out, gagged him, and tied him up, or worse yet, slit his throat and let him die gurgling in the night. But this was an exercise in patience, he reminded himself. So he waited.

_You are a ghost. You are a spirit. Drift on the wind. Be unseen. _

He rested, holding his breath. The guard finally passed out of view and he deftly crept along the grass up to a shorter wall. With a quick series of jumps, he hopped over the wall and into the royal private gardens. Making sure no one was around, he grasped the clinging ivy and scaled up the castle wall, finding convenient hand and foot holds in the bricks.

_Bad masonry —_ he smirked _— makes it far too easy for assassins and thieves to get in._

He reached a balcony and landed softly on the flagstones. He peered through the glass door into the darkened room, feeling his heart beating madly in his chest.

_This is it. _

The door was unlocked, and he opened it, wincing at the slightest creak. The gossamer curtain fluttered as the cool night breeze swept into the room.

He adjusted his mask as he stepped up to the occupied bed. The man beneath the covers stirred.

In one terrifying sweep, the two broadswords emerged from their sheaths, a tooth-aching rasp of metal on metal tearing through the night. The bed's occupant started, took one look at the horrific blue and white mask, and screamed like a girl.

"BOOGAH BOOGAH BOOGAH!" He howled, waving the swords menacingly over his head as the man in the bed continued to shriek. He laughed heartily and pranced out the window as the bedroom's owner came to his senses.

"IROH, YOU CRETIN!" Ozai shouted, leaping to the balcony as he watched his brother's lithe black-clad body steal away into the night, whooping in triumph.

* * *


	19. Wind

**When foreshadowing goes overboard…**

**

* * *

**

**Wind**

**

* * *

**

The icy wind stung her cheeks as she turned her back on her brother.

"Katara!" Sokka shouted. "Would you really choose _him_ over your tribe? Your own _family_?" He asked incredulously.

Every word echoed hollowly in her gaping heart. _My tribe. My family…_

Another bitter arctic gust brought burning tears to her eyes and she half turned to look at the last of her kin.

"Katara, I don't want to come between you and your family," the prince said softly, squeezing her hand.

She looked into his face, smiling sadly. Her mind was made up. She shook her head silently and turned her back on the village.

_I'll make my own tribe. My own family._

Sokka watched his sister's stiff back in disbelief as she ascended the ramp up to the waiting Fire Nation vessel.

"So you're leaving the South Pole?" He whispered. "This is goodbye?"

She didn't hear him above the wind.

* * *

**Rewatching the early episodes makes me hunt for obscure Zutara foreshadowing moments...**


	20. Poetry

**

* * *

**

**Poetry**

**

* * *

**

"I don't like it."

"You never like anything, Sokka."

The Water Tribe boy ignored his sister. "He's always sitting there, writing in that little book of his."

"Leave Zuko alone. He has enough to worry about." Katara gathered her bathing things together. "I'm going for a bath. Don't do anything while I'm gone."

Which was practically an invitation for Sokka to go ahead and confront the prince.

Sokka kept his eye on the Firebender as Katara disappeared into the forest. He watched as those disturbing gold eyes followed the slender girl into the woods.

"Don't think I don't know," Sokka said loudly as soon as his sister's footsteps had faded. "I can see the way you look at her."

Zuko turned that hard glare upon him. His lip curled. "You don't know anything." He said lowly.

"And what _exactly _are you writing in that little book of yours?" Sokka got up and stood over the prince. The Firebender stared back up at him coolly, not allowing himself to be unsettled by a mere peasant.

"You wouldn't know, you illiterate cretin—hey!" Before he could react the Water Tribe warrior had snatched the leather bound book from his hands and had dashed to the other side of the campfire. Zuko struggled to his feet.

"Give that back!" He roared.

Sokka ignored him as he opened the book to a random page and started to read out loud:

_The void of my soul  
Fills with pain  
Never ceases  
Never fills  
Neverending._

Sokka gagged. "Zuzu, I never took you for a poet!" He grinned. "And a bad one, too!"

"SHUT UP!" The prince lunged at him, but in his fury he tripped over the camping pot and sprawled out on the ground. The water boy danced away and turned to another page, reading with great flare and flourish.

_Oh look at me, look at me  
My angel of the deep  
Turn your blue eyes upon me  
And let me drink of your soul;  
Let me lie on the softness of your beach-coloured skin  
Let me take my fill of the ocean  
To quench my fire._

Sokka stopped, feeling his blood thicken and boil. He growled at the prince, who was stalking toward him, a flinty look in his eyes.

"You sick pervert. Don't you dare touch my sister. Don't even _look _at her," Sokka hissed. He ripped the page from the book and clutched it in his fist. "And stop writing poetry about her!"

Zuko's eyes went wide at the desecration of his beloved book. For a perverse moment, Sokka thrilled at that crestfallen look. But then the Firebender's clenched fists suddenly slackened, his shoulders drooped. Zuko looked away and sighed. Sokka was taken aback. He half-expected a rough-and-tumble over this. Was aching for it, really.

The prince slowly reached out and took the book from him. He looked directly into Sokka's face.

"That poem," he said softly, his finger trailing over the water boy's skin, "Wasn't about Katara."

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**I'm not normally a Zuko/Sokka shipper, but I think it's hilarious anyhow.**


	21. Clean

**Cross-posted at avatar100. **

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**Title:** Clean  
**Author:** vickiso  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warning:** Nudity. Teenage hormones.  
**Challenge #44: **Ye Olde Cliché

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**Clean**

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She was standing in the hot springs. Naked.

What else could he do _but_ stare? He was a teenage boy, after all. With _that_ in front of him, it was hard enough to feel anything apart from the blood rushing to… _places_, much less formulate a coherent capture-the-Avatar scheme.

Then she turned and beckoned to him, lips puckered, a hand trailing over her skin—

"Did you hear me Zuko?" Iroh prodded. "I said I think I hear a stream nearby. Maybe we can catch some fish."

The prince shook himself. He needed a cold bath more than food just now.

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	22. Hair

**This was a thought that occured to me where all my thoughts about Zuko occur - in the shower.  
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**Hair**

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Iroh had been the one to suggest the look when his nephew had healed enough to start daily grooming again.

"I think you should just shave it all off," he said smiling. "Except for the queue – can't cut the ties that bind, of course."

Zuko nodded in agreement, and the barber started the fine work of pruning the burnt, patchy hair off. Admittedly, Zuko looked great shaved – he had the perfect head for the look, and Iroh beamed his approval.

Grooming the prince's scalp became a twice-weekly ritual – his hair grew extraordinarily fast. Even so, the banished prince didn't really look at his reflection much. He had never been terribly vain anyhow.

* * *

And then one day both their royal top knots had been cut. 

Neither of them needed to say anything about what they'd just done. They simply got up from the river bank and turned their backs to the two bundles of hair floating downstream.

Iroh didn't dare make a crack about how silly his nephew looked with only that cropped patch on the top of his scalp. If he was lucky, he'd be able to procure a blade and shear off the remaining hair so that it would grow back evenly.

But that was the furtheset thing from his mind at the moment.

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Weeks later, the old general found the exiled prince sitting by the stream they were camped near, staring at his reflection in the water. He was touching his face and scalp, running his fingers through the short coarse hair that was quickly taking root. 

At the sound of his soft step, Zuko looked up from his melancholy vigil and sighed.

"What's troubling you, nephew?" _Aside from the obvious of course._

"It's… it's nothing." He gazed down at the water once more.

Which was Zuko-ese for "_Everything. Keep bothering me about it and eventually you'll get it right_."

The old Firebender kneeled down next to him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He had a whole catalog of vague ideas about what troubled his nephew, and he picked the most appropriate one for the moment.

"I'm going to tell you something a very wise woman once told me. She said that if all the people who cared about you saw only what lay on the surface, then they didn't really care about you at all." Iroh shifted his weight and dipped a hand into the cool water. "There are many things deep beneath the surface of the water. The woman of your dreams will see them."

The prince started, cheeks burning. "This has nothing to do with a girl!" He snapped.

Iroh cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "Oh really?"

"It's just… I'm just…" Zuko spluttered. His lips twisted about and he looked back down at his reflection. "Uncle, let me ask you something."

"Go on."

"I'm almost 17. My hair is growing out like grass in the springtime. I haven't seen a barber in weeks, and my knife is duller than dirt."

"And…?"

The prince screwed up his face in frustration. "So WHY haven't I started growing any FACIAL HAIR?"

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**I think we're all fortunate Zuko doesn't have that bad 16-year-old fuzz on his face, or worse yet, the three hairs sprouting from his upper lip and chin. ****_Eeew._ **

**Thanks Bryan and Mike: we like our Zuzu smooth as a baby's bottom. **


	23. Genesis

**Written on gracemis' request for "inspiration" - I'm not really inspirational, just weird and unemployed.**

** SPOILER WARNING for Avatar Day and The Blind Bandit.  
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**Genesis**

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The last time they had met was months ago at the North Pole, just after that dreadful, miraculous night Yue had sacrificed her life to save/become the Moon Spirit.

So when Sokka, reaching for an awesome hat that would go _perfectly_ with his recently acquired tote bag, encountered the large, hammy hand of a certain retired Fire Nation general reaching for the very same hat, he screamed.

"YOU!"

The old Fire Nation man blinked, nonplussed. Slowly, a small smile spread across his face.

"The Northern Water Tribe…" he said slowly. And then, a little more sadly, "I remember you."

Sokka's brain pulled his attention in four different directions. If this guy was here – what was his name? – then Zuko wasn't far behind! Where were Aang and Katara? The Fire Nation probably had them all surrounded by now! Could he take this ancient Firebender on? Probably not, he thought to himself, remembering the speed and fierceness with which he had dispatched four of Admiral Zhao's guards back at the spirit oasis. Could he run? Not without attracting attention, and not without the Avatar and his sister. Dammit, why couldn't they all just stick together and not have something bad happen every time they entered a town?

The old man seemed to understand the looks of panic and alarm flickering across the young warrior's face. "Zuko's not with me," he said reassuringly. "And, I might add, he's no longer after the Avatar, and neither am I."

Sokka stared. He couldn't trust this man – he was from the Fire Nation!

"You don't have to believe me," General Iroh – that was his name! – said calmly. "I was just in town to do some shopping."

The Water boy gaped, trying to find some kind of hot retort or snappy remark, but he was sideswiped by that earnest smile as the old general slowly picked up the hat Sokka had his eye on and put it on.

He tipped his chin up appreciatively, grinning. "So what do you think? Is it me?"

* * *

How Sokka had been cajoled into the teahouse was a completely different story – one neither Aang nor Katara believed when they regrouped. The Water Tribe teen blinked at the delicate porcelain cup of oolong and looked at the old man for the fifth time, wondering, _How did I end up here?_

"…And so he left." Iroh sipped his ginseng and let out a heavy sigh. "I haven't seen or heard from him since. I just hope his sister hasn't caught up with him."

"Zuko has a sister?" Sokka tried to picture a female version of the scarred Fire prince, but ended up painting lipstick and mascara on the Firebender instead. He giggled to himself.

"She was sent to take us back to the Fire Nation. We're wanted men," Iroh lowered his voice. "So far I've managed to elude the bounty hunters, but I'm afraid at my age, it will only be a matter of time before I'm caught."

The Water Tribe warrior instantly felt sorry for Iroh. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy, despite the way he had somehow managed to convince Sokka into buying the hat for him. ("Incidentally, you have better taste than my nephew ever did." He'd said happily, donning the new wide-brimmed bonnet.)

"Maybe… maybe you could come with us and teach Aang Firebending," Sokka's mouth had taken on a life of its own. Maybe it was the tea, but he felt like he had to help the exiled old Fire Nation man. "He's already close to mastering Earthbending, with Toph traveling with us. He'll need a Firebending master soon, and you seem pretty qualified."

Iroh smiled and stared down into his cup. "You're very kind to offer. But an old man like me would only be a burden on you young kids."

Sokka made to protest, but Iroh put a hand up. "I'm not as spry as I used to be, despite what you've seen. Being constantly on the run from your enemies wears an old veteran like me out." He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm tired, Sokka. Very tired. I think sometimes the only reason I cling to life is for my nephew…" he gazed at the boy, smiling sadly. "You know, I bet you two would make great friends."

Sokka was grateful for the change in subject. Mortality wasn't high on his list of topics of conversation. He responded in typical Sokka-esque fashion: "_Pfft!_ Yeah, and the next thing you're going to tell me is that he should date my sister!"

There was a moment, like a lantern wick being lit over Iroh's head. His eyes brightened.

Iroh tugged on his beard. "You know, I never really thought about that…"

Sokka paled. "Then don't think about it."

"…He definitely could use some female company…" Iroh said to the ceiling.

"Drop it."

"…And your sister is certainly a capable bender…" He stroked his chin in thought.

"I said _drop it_."

"…Not to mention beautiful…" The old Firebender drummed his fingers against his cheek.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"…And she's got spirit! Did she ever tell you about that time Zuko caught… er, _saved_ her from pirates? Those two would be like two fighting peas in a pod."

"Could you please stop this train of thought? I'm going to throw up."

"…And aren't you both the children of the Southern Water Tribe leader? I seem to recall you being the eldest male in the village we stopped at. That would make your sister—what's her name?"

"Katara."

"—That would make Katara practically a princess." Iroh's eyes widened with glee. "Oh yes! That would be a perfect arrangement!"

"Arrangement?"

"Of marriage, of course. To end the war and all that. Why, if Zuko joined forces with you, taught the Avatar Firebending, and defeated his father so he could regain his throne, he could marry your sister and cement the relationship between the two nations with the worst relations! Fire and Water – together at last!" Iroh was wringing his hands together gleefully, conspiratorially, eyes round and shining.

Sokka gnashed his teeth. "Are you insane? What on earth makes you think my sister would go for Zuko?"

Iroh downed the last of his tea and stood, his eyes glittering with renewed hope and fascinating possibilities. Sokka stood up as Iroh headed for the exit.

"Where are you going?" He shouted after him.

"I have to find my nephew! This could change everything!" Iroh bounded out the door with surprisingly light footsteps. "Thank you Sokka! I will repay you one day for your brilliant idea!"

"What? Wait! I didn't say anything! Iroh, come back here! Don't you dare go pimping my sister to Zuko!"

But the old man had lithely disappeared into the crowd…

…Stiffing Sokka with the teahouse bill.

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**Why was this chapter called _Genesis_? Because guess who the first Zutarians were...**


	24. Insight

**SPOILER ALERT for The Blind Bandit.**

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**Insight**

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The addition of a fourth was natural, as natural as the settling of sand on the beach as the tides pulled out. Katara loved having Toph around, another female to balance the headcount; a girl who, despite her so-called handicapped, was blessed with more insight than the Avatar and her brother put together. The girls talked endlessly about everything, from hair, to books they'd read, to the war. Neither of the girls had ever had a sister to talk to; in each other, they'd found something they had never realized they were lacking.

It was when the fifth joined them that things between the girls got awkward.

"I may be blind," Toph said quietly one night after dinner. "But I can tell he's handsome."

"He's okay… if you think scars are sexy," Katara murmured dismissively, though her scalp tingled; she wasn't sure she liked the young girl's appraisal of their newest member. Even if it was only to protect her surrogate sister from the likes of the Fire prince, she wasn't sure she liked Toph mentally ogling him.

"You don't see it, do you?" Toph tilted her head, clouded eyes searching. "Or you won't admit it, anyhow."

Katara said nothing in response and continued to stir the pot. She hoped the girl couldn't hear grimaces.

But the Earthbender was persistent, if not outright stubborn. "He likes you, you know."

"Ha." Katara hoped she couldn't hear blushes either.

"I can tell. I can hear the way his breath quickens when he's near you, the way his voice softens just a little when he talks to you. Maybe he doesn't know it yet either, but I can tell."

"I think he likes you way more," Katara teased. "He's really impressed by your fighting techniques. How many times have you beaten him now?"

"He's letting me win," Toph growled. "I can tell."

"See? Just another piece of evidence to add to my case!" Katara laughed. The young Eearthbender could help but smile and soon they were both giggling, catching the prince's questioning glance as he passed, arms full of firewood.

The Waterbender didn't stop thinking about Toph's words all night, even as she made her way to the river to wash her clothes. She wasn't blind to the Firebender's more attractive qualities: the air of determination, the sheer force of his presence, his incongruently soft voice, the wonderfully shaped torso of rippling muscles she got a daily eyeful of as he practiced his bending…

Katara blushed, sighing. Oh yes, Zuko definitely had some attractive qualities.

_Maybe Toph's right. Maybe I do have a crush on Zuko. Maybe I always have._

So it came as a complete surprise when she walked in on the Firebender and the little girl sharing a tender kiss by the river.

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**Toph x Zuko? Would that be Toko or Zuph? Anyhow, that's my new crack pairing! Whee! The question is, do I follow my Zutara fandom and write a second part to this, or do I leave it as it is? R'n'R and you tell me!**  



	25. Insight, Part II

**So being the die-hard Zutara fangirl I am, I couldn't leave the last drabble as it was. ****  
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**Insight, Part II**

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_It was completely innocent._

She_ was completely innocent. She was _supposed_ to be, anyhow – I mean, she's a 12-year-old blind girl of privilege. How was I supposed to know she was going to kiss me?_

_I mean, I was just being nice. _

_She had an eyelash in her eye. I did what any big brother would and tried to get it out._

_Yeah, she's like the little sister I never had. And no, Azula definitely does not count._

_I was helping her. She asked me to take her down to the river, so I did. _

_I was just being nice._

_You're the one who wanted me to be nicer! You're always saying how much of a jerk I am. So I was being nice! I was trying to be nice because you asked me to!_

_And then she just grabbed me and kissed me! I mean, she's, like, 12!_

_Yeah, yeah, Earthbending prodigy and all that… but she's 12! She's not supposed to be all… you know. And besides, I'm almost 17! Is that even legal in the Earth Kingdom?_

_No! Oh gods, no, don't even think I'd do that with her! She's 12! Ack!_

_She had an eyelash in her eye. I was helping her get it out._

_I never thought…_

_Katara… _

_Katara, it wasn't what it looked like…_

_I'm sorry._

_Please don't be angry with me…_

"Katara!" Zuko finally caught up with the Waterbender, breathless. But she kept stalking away from him. He followed on her heels. "Katara, wait."

When he finally got her to stop, he wanted to pour his thoughts out into her and let her know—

But the look of ultimate betrayal in her eyes made him decide actions were louder than words.

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**But wait! There's more...!**  



	26. Insight, Part III

**Because I just couldn't leave it at the last part, either. **

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**Insight, Part III  
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"What the hell is your problem?" Zuko held the side of his jaw, still reeling from the hard right hook the Waterbender had delivered to his face.

"MY problem? What the hell is yours?" Katara wiped her lips.

"I—" Zuko paused, caught off guard. "I was KISSING you!"

"Uh, yeah, kinda noticed that!" Katara said sarcastically. "What's the deal? First you go kissing Toph, and minutes later, you're kissing me. What the hell? Are you trying for a marathon? Are Aang and Sokka next on your list of people to tag?"

"What? No! How could you—"

"Go jump in the river, jerkwad." Katara spat. "You're in a world of trouble if you've hurt Toph."

"I didn't mean to! She just—"

"She what? Grabbed you and kissed you while you were trying to help her get an eyelash out of her eye?"

Zuko blinked. "YES!"

"Boys are so stupid," She huffed, gathering up her dropped laundry. "You flirt and bat eyelashes and make nice, and you make girls all gushy for you, and then you go off and try to drown a whole village…" She made an exasperated noise and stomped away.

The prince stood agape. "What?"

"When Toph goes burying you headfirst in the sand when you try to dump her, expect me to fill the hole with water first." She shouted over her shoulder.

Zuko stood there for a moment longer, watching Katara's long braid swing haughtily behind her before disappearing through the bushes.

Dammit, he wasn't going to let her have the last word. He was a prince!

"I only kissed you to show you I care!" He shouted at the rustling bush. "Kissing Toph was an accident! I was just being nice! And you know Aang has a thing for her – I wouldn't flirt with her, ever! Katara, if your stupid idiot brother wasn't hanging around all the time, believe me, I would have kissed you a long time ago!"

Heart emptied, Zuko felt better. But when the bush did not respond, he growled and followed after the Water Tribe girl, shouting.

"Katara, I—"

The Firebender blanched. He had just stumbled out of the bushes…

… And straight into their camp.

Four pairs of hurt, shocked, and angry eyes trained on the prince. Faces red with fury, embarrassment, mortification, and humiliation burned hotter than a Firebender during Agni Kai. Mouths were half open, brimming with harsh words or worse for the prince.

Zuko swallowed.

"Oh. Shit."

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**Man, I love torturing Zuko. Also, _awwwwwwkkwaarrrrrd..._**


	27. The Tempest

**Inspired by a long, nasty walk through a very dangerous lightning storm. Of course I would think about ATLA while my life was in mortal danger - wouldn't you?**

**And you already know this by now, but I'll repeat myself: I do not own _Avatar: The Last Airbender._**

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**The Tempest**

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She stood at the edge of the open balcony, watching the storm. The air in the palace was thick, heavy with the scent of damp dust and a summer that had been too dry. The rain had been long overdue. Blue-white lightning arced across the sky, briefly illuminating the dark, cumulus clouds. Barely a second later, an earth-shattering boom tolled in the sky, making her shiver pleasantly. The rain continued to pour steadily down, running off the slate eaves high above the balcony in foaming, silver sheets. It was like standing behind a waterfall. 

"I love storms," she murmured, closing her eyes and hugging herself, as though drawing her skin tightly around her. "I love the way the rain feels on my skin. I love the colour of lightning. I love the sounds it makes—"

"Never much cared for lightning or thunder," a voice behind her grumbled sleepily. The sound of silk sheets sliding against skin sent an electric thrill coursing up her spine and right into her back molars. "Rain's not a problem for me – it's just water. And thunder's just noise – all boom and bang. It's the lightning that's dangerous."

"But lightning's what makes storms so great," she flashed a smile over her shoulder. "The way it moves so fast you barely knew it was there until it's gone. The smell it makes just before it hits something. Have you ever smelled that? It's like… like when you rub fur against silk and it makes all those sparks, like little lightning." She sighed. "I could lie out in a field in the rain all day and watch the lightning…"

"You couldn't be like _normal _girls, could you?" Strong arms sheathed in red silk crawled around her bare hips, cradling her gently. Warm skin pressed against her and she purred, arching her back. Warm lips covered her briefly and her eyes fluttered shut.

"Come away from the window, Azula. Come back to bed." The hot whisper trailed down her neck.

The princess turned to gaze into her Water boy's eyes, so like the colour of rain and blue lightning.

And the storm within her raged.

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**Tell me straight up: did you think I was talking about Katara and Zuko at first?** **Heh heh. I'm a tricksie Hobbit.  
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	28. Innuendo

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**Innuendo**

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**Sokka knew something was up. It began when his little sister and the jackass had been several hours late returning to camp with their supplies.

"Where have you been? I'm starving!" Sokka wailed.

"Here," the prince grabbed something from Katara's basket and chucked it at the Water Tribe boy's head. "Have some cheese with that whine."

And Katara actually_ laughed._

It was a quiet laugh; more of a giggle, really, but it didn't escape big brother's notice. The fact that Zuko was incapable of making jokes also put the Firebender under suspicion

While Sokka sulkily noshed on his hunk of cheese, Katara set to work preparing dinner. Toph and Aang were away practicing their Earthbending. The stuck up douchebag, who had until now gone off on his own to meditate while Katara cooked, actually stayed this time and muttered an offer of help. She graciously accepted and that, in and of itself, was weird: normally, the two would be fighting about how bad her cooking was, or something like that.

Sokka watched the two benders from the shade of a tree. They weren't making eye contact, but once or twice, he could have sworn he saw their hands touch as they reached for something, their fingers flinching back as though they'd been burned.

"Sorry," Zuko murmured, the corners of his mouth tight.

_Sorry?_ That jerkwad was never sorry about anything!

Katara smiled wanly, rummaging through the loaded basket for ingredients for tonight's stew. The Water Tribe money they'd been given had afforded them a lot of luxuries, including an abundance of food. By the looks of it, his sister was cooking up quite a feast tonight.

That's when things started getting _really _weird.

Katara pulled cucumbers, carrots, and aubergine eggplants from the basket and languidly starting washing them in the basin of water they had brought from the river. Her hands seemed small compared to the size of the vegetables. She took up a knife and slowly peeled away the skin, taking long strips off the length of the carrots.

Zuko crouched there, watching her intently, mesmerized by the motion of her delicate hands. The Waterbender looked up at him and smiled.

"Have you seen the breasts?" she asked suddenly.

He looked startled. "Huh? What?"

"The chicken breast meat we bought." She grinned.

"Oh. Uh…right here." He produced a cloth-wrapped package.

"Great. I need you to take the skin off the breasts and pound them."

Zuko cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "Any other meat you want me to pound?"

She didn't flinch. "No, but if you can stew the sausages until they're firm, that would be great." She went on peeling vegetables, the barest of smiles curling the corners of her mouth.

The prince furrowed his brow. He went through the basket and produced a piece of fruit.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm hungry. I'm having a peach before dinner." He breathed on it and wiped it on his shirt.

"I thought you didn't like peaches."

"I changed my mind." Zuko turned the fruit over in his hands, contemplating it. "It's a lovely blush colour, don't you think? And the flesh is _so_ soft and sweet." His voice turned husky, dropping to low whisper as he brought the peach to his lips, gently brushing the fuzzy surface. "It's ripe and ready to be eaten. If I don't eat it now, it'll only get softer and juicier and then we won't be able to take it anywhere." He sank his teeth into the flesh, the juice spreading over his lips, dripping messily down his chin. He murmured appreciatively, almost moaning, his eyes closed.

Katara stared at him hungrily, lips parted in a pant, cheeks flushed. She gasped as the prince held the peach out to her. "Would you like a bite?"

"Okay, that's _it_." Sokka got up. "You two. Leave. Now. Take a hike, go into the woods, and rut like bunnies."

"Sokka!" Katara gasped. Zuko looked equally as startled, as if the boy had just suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

He held up a hand. "Please. Katara, Zuko, just go. You have my blessings." He added, shuddering: "_Ugh._"

"Sokka…" Katara tried again.

"Don't talk. Just go. You're completely ruining food for me."

The two benders looked at each other, shrugged, stood, and walked away, hand in hand. Zuko left the fruit behind.

"Perfectly good waste of a peach, too." Sokka muttered, tossing the prince's snack into the bushes.


	29. Blind

**SPOILER WARNING: Major spoiler for The Chase**

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**Blind**

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"Zuko."

The exiled prince started from his chair by the bed. "Uncle! You're awake!"

The old general blinked slowly, blearily at his nephew. The young Firebender's eyes were hollow-looking, with dark bags hanging under them. "Wha…?"

"Shh, don't talk. You've been out for almost four days. I brought you here after Azula hit you. I thought I almost lost you…" Zuko's eyes, usually hard and sharp, brimmed with tears even as the corners of his thinned lips twitched upwards.

The old man, suddenly feeling his age, raised his heavy head and took in his surroundings. They were in an Earth Kingdom infirmary. A few other bandage-wrapped patients lay in beds close by. Most of them appeared to be refugees.

Iroh touched his chest, feeling the tender flesh wrapped beneath strips of clean white linen. He sighed and lay back down.

"It's all right Uncle. I'm going to take care of you. No one knows who we are." He clasped his hand gently.

Iroh swallowed thickly. "Where… where are they?"

Zuko frowned. "Who?"

"The Avatar and his friends."

The prince pursed his lips. "I sent them away."

Iroh closed his eyes.

"I didn't need their help. I got you here on my own, didn't I?" Zuko's grip on his uncle's hand tightened unconsciously. "It looked bad for a while, but I got the ostrich-horse back and put you on him. We rode for a couple of days. I think Azula's more intent on the Avatar. I don't think she followed us—"

The old general interrupted with a gesture. "Zuko," Iroh whispered hoarsely. "Come closer."

The prince furrowed his brow, worrying for his aging relative, and leaned in.

"Closer."

Zuko moved his face even closer.

Iroh licked his parched lips. "Closer."

Zuko put his ear right next to the old man's cheek—

...And Iroh smacked the back of his nephew's head _hard_.

"The Waterbender girl is a _healer_, you mental deficient! Did Azula knock the sense out of you?"

Zuko gaped. "But—"

"She offered to help! I was conscious enough to hear _that _part!"

"But—"

"No. No, don't say anything. You almost let me die out in the middle of gods-know-where because of your stupid pride. Oh, and you know what else? She was _totally _digging you and you didn't even know it!"

Zuko blinked. "What? Who are you talking about?"

"The Waterbender, you halfwit! You're blinder than that little Earth Kingdom girl they've got tagging along with them, you know that?"

The prince stared blankly back at his uncle. "What little Earth Kingdom girl?"

Iroh's jaw slackened. He rubbed his forehead and sighed tiredly. "This was so much easier when we still had a ship."

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**I couldn't resist writing this: I think the fandom feels the same way as I do about Zuko's primal "LEAVE!" scream.**  



	30. Letting Go

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**Letting Go**

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He kneels by the shrine, burning offerings of incense, leaving overripe mandarin oranges, cold oolong tea, and a bit of roast chicken from last night's dinner on the chipped, glided plate on the altar. It's a feast for the dead on an old soldier's pension.

It's all he can afford right now, and it's not likely he'll ever return. Even if his son is still alive—he doesn't hold out much hope after almost a year of waiting—the offering will not go to waste, but to his beloved wife, who had died of grief only two months earlier.

He sheds a final tear, pouring every burgeoning ounce of his aching soul into the last heavy drop. It falls, and he tells himself he is free.

"Lieutenant," a voice rumbles softly behind him. He turns slightly and smiles at his visitor.

"General Iroh. You'll forgive me for not standing." He laughs a little harshly.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," the Fire Lord's brother is sympathetic. "I know it's late, but Prince Zuko's ship is ready to disembark."

He doesn't stand right away, but nods in acknowledgement.

He still has one more goodbye. One more tie to sever.

He draws the blade from his belt and without hesitation, lops off the top knot of prematurely grey hair, setting it down onto the ground before the ancestral shrine. The rest of his mop falls stiffly down, a jagged line circling the base of his scalp. Not the tidiest way to greet your new commander, but it seems fitting somehow. He'd have the ship's barber trim it short later.

The retired general behind him sucks in a breath, but does not comment as the man stands and turns to meet him, eyes cold and empty. His lips are pursed in a straight line.

"And so into exile we go," he says stiffly, marching out.

It is said without conviction, bitterness, remorse, or despair. It's just the cold, plain truth.

Iroh glances back at the shrine briefly, shaking his head. He follows the Lieutenant out, envying Jee's ability to let go so readily.

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**Man, I wonder where Jee is. I think the fandom sorta sees him as the trustworthy father figure on Zuko's ship... or the surly second cousin who comes to respect his snotty relative through much hardship. Something, anyhow, I dunno. I just miss the good old days of a big metal ship and three square meals a day. And Zuko's sleeveless training top. Boy was that ever a hot outfit...**


	31. Intervention

**I find myself writing a lot of really strange drabbles lately. Can't seem to focus on any of the longer fics I've been working on. Oh well. **

**SPOILER ALERT for Bitter Work. **

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**Intervention**

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"Where are we going?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"It's not my birthday. And you know how much I hate parties."

"Oooh, well, this isn't a party. Not exactly."

"Uncle, stop with this foolish game and just tell me what's going on!"

Iroh sighed. They stopped before a door. The old general opened it and gestured to his nephew. "Come in, Prince Zuko."

The Firebender stepped in hesitantly. He blinked at the sight before him.

The Avatar!

Azula!

That water wench!

And… _Dad?_

"Wha…?" His head whipped around the room, filled with dozens of steady gazes all fixed on him. They were all people he knew, all people whose lives he had touched, whose destinies were intertwined with his. Even that ridiculous Water Tribe peasant boy was here, picking his teeth.

He found his voice, his anger.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"

"Zuko," Iroh said calmly. "This is an intervention."

The prince stopped cold. And then he flared up again. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"

"You're getting _way_ too emotional, even for us," Azula said snidely.

"Yeah. I mean, we know you've got issues, but did you have to scream _quite_ so loud from that mountain?" The Avatar massaged his inner ear with his index finger. "Poor Momo is nearly deaf."

"I AM NOT EMOTIONAL!"

"Drink some tea, son," Ozai offered a thimbleful. "You really need to calm down."

"I DON'T NEED ANY CALMING TEA!" He slapped the cup out of his father's hand. The Fire Lord whimpered and shrank back.

"You might as well have been screaming 'NOOOOOOOOOOO'," The water boy parodied Zuko's rage against the storm. "You were having a real Captain Dan/Vader moment there, you know."

Zuko didn't have a clue what the boy was talking about, but he had a feeling it was an insult. "PREPARE TO FRY, PEASANT!"

"Shh, it's okay," the Waterbender's touch killed his fury instantly, though inside he continued to rage. She gently took him by the hand and led him to a plush armchair. He glowered at her even as she climbed into his lap like a pussycat and began stroking his hair, purring. "You've been so tense since you cut your topknot."

"TENSE?" Zuko pushed her out of his lap and she tumbled to the ground, landing on all fours with a mew. "GEE, YOU THINK MAYBE IT'S BECAUSE _SHE'S_ HUNTING ME ALL OVER THE WORLD?" He pointed at his sister accusingly. She was inspecting her nails.

"Oh, that's just sibling rivalry," Azula waved off. "Just drink the tea, Zuzu."

The water girl was kneeling in front of him, offering him another tiny cup of tea. "Drink," she said smilingly, "And you will be free."

He looked down at her, found himself inextricably drawn to the brew in her hands. He lifted the cup to his lips, only now it wasn't a cup, but a huge pot, and amber liquid like cold fire began spilling over his face.

"CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!" The room began chanting. He opened his mouth to swallow—

"ZUKO!"

"Blaaghh!" The Firebender sat up with a start, face dripping with a foul smelling liquid. He stared around, wide-eyed, trying to see where the Avatar, his sister, his father, and the rather attractive water girl had gone to…

"You were having a nightmare," Iroh said squeezing his shoulder. In his hand he held an empty cup, its contents now staining Zuko's tunic a deep rust colour. It was old tea, the stuff Zuko had brewed earlier in the day.

"That must have been one heckuva dream. You were practically shouting in your sleep. I _told_ you not to drink any tea before bed." The old Firebender admonished him gently.

The prince rubbed the fading images out of his eyes, wiping his mouth across his sleeve.

Then he sniffed himself, making a face. "Oooh, Uncle. Why didn't you tell me the tea was _this bad_?"

Iroh grinned. "Bracing though, no?"


	32. Effort

**Written for the author who submitted a hilarious entry for Sokka's "Three Benders Walk Into a Bar" joke in my series, _Til Death Do Us Part_. He wanted to remain anonymous, which is why I can't identify him.**

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**Effort **

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Despite his moniker, Toph could hear him tiptoeing over the grass.

"Not quiet enough, Twinkle Toes," the Earthbender said over the shoulder.

"Aww, nuts," Aang said, and his footfalls became stomps. "Can't get one over on you, can I?"

"Nope."

She sensed his awkwardness; the way his rough palms fidgeted behind his back, the grinding of one toe into the ground. If she concentrated hard enough, she could have sworn he was blushing.

"Sooo…"

"Spit it out, I don't have all day," she said harshly.

"Oh. Well, um… I got you something." He produced something and held it out to her unseeing eyes. She wrinkled her nose and swatted his hand away.

"Get those away from me," she snarled.

Aang was shocked. "But… I thought all girls liked flowers."

"I _heard_ you picking them. Heard you rip them out of the ground. Did you know that flowers _scream_ when you do that?"

The monk's gulp was audible. "Er, no."

"Well, they do. You've just handed me a bunch of screaming, slowly dying plants. Thanks a lot." She twisted around on her butt to turn her back to him, listening as he plodded away, despondent.

Toph twitched her lips as Aang disappeared into the woods. Perhaps she should not have been so harsh. It was only partly true that plants screamed when they were injured – she imagined they did, anyhow. Besides, he had tried, he really had. But she couldn't make it _too _easy for him, could she? Otherwise, it would look like she was easily won over.

Some time later, Aang came skipping back. The Earthbender groaned in exaggeration.

"What now?" She said irately, privately pleased he had returned.

Something landed with a thud before her.

"See? I got a flower pot for it and everything," the little Avatar beamed.

Toph suppressed a smile and waved him off. "That's all well and good, but how am I supposed to take it around with me? I don't have time to take care of it, and I don't think Appa cares for the extra weight, either. Nice try, though."

She thought he was going to cry as his shoulders slumped and he shuffled away once more. She should have just kissed him and said thank you, but this was too much fun. Aang was so easy to string along.

It was a very long time before he returned. Toph began to worry she had really done it this time; that she had pushed him too far and he had lost interest in her entirely. But just when she was about to get up and go looking for him, Aang came running out of the woods.

"Toph! Toph!" He cried and rushed up to her. "C'mon! You gotta _see_ this!"

…Which is a pretty bold thing to say to a blind girl. She was about to make this point when he grabbed her hand unbidden and tugged her to her feet. The warmth of his sweaty boy grasp trickled up her arm and into her core. She wrinkled her brow to hide the delight on her face as they ran, feet barely touching the soft forest floor as Aang used his Airbending to propel them. The cool earth eventually gave way to soft, silky grass, and they came to a stop.

Toph gasped. All around were fragrant flowers, a field of sweet-smelling blossoms touched by verdant spring. Butterflies and bees lazily flitted from one laden bloom to the next, sampling from the buffet of nectars laid out over the rolling plain. She kneeled and reached out to brush her fingertips against the never-ending bouquet Aang had found for her, letting the smile she had been hiding all day light her face.

"So… did I do good?" Aang asked, hopeful.

She stood and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. "Yes. Yes you did."

This time, the blush was unmistakable.


	33. Tell Me Where It Hurts

**This one's dedicated to Rashaka, who submitted a "Three Benders Walk Into a Bar" joke for my _Til Death Do Us Part_ drabble series. I don't know what it is about her, but she inspires the dirtiest ficlets from me…**

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**Tell Me Where It Hurts**

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Zuko had never been good at accepting help. Period. Even after he had joined the Avatar and his companions, the prince still refused assistance of any kind.

"OW!"

Zuko dropped his "club" – that's what he called the heavy, tapered tree branch he had picked up at some point along the journey. Broad and crude, it was nothing like the elegant double broadswords he normally practiced with, and it seemed totally uncharacteristic of the snobbish teen to be wielding such a clumsy device. Katara secretly preferred to watch him Firebend, all sinew and muscle and breath and flame, but she would never admit that out loud. Regardless, the prince seemed to like his club, especially when he sparred against Sokka and the Water Tribe warrior's own tiny-seeming weapon.

The Firebender had been swinging it around ­– "training," he called it – when the weapon fell with a heavy thud to the sand, followed by a string of uttered curses.

Katara looked up from her mending. "What's wrong?"

The prince gripped his hand, chewing his lower lip, his face contorted in a look of sheer agony. Worried he had _really_ hurt himself this time, the Waterbender left her sewing and came to his aid.

"Did you break your finger? Let me see," she reached for him.

Zuko yelped. "No! Don't touch it!"

"C'mon, let me see." Katara insisted, grabbing him roughly by the shoulder and spinning him around. Zuko made a noise that sounded like a half whimper, half choke as she inspected his injured right index finger.

"Oh, Zuko," the water girl's lips curled up. "It's just a splinter."

"It's HUGE!" Zuko exclaimed, snatching his hand back and nursing it. "Don't touch it!"

Katara extracted the sewing needle from the hem of her robe, where she had stuck it before getting up. "Here, let me help. If we don't pull it out, it could get infected."

"No! Leave me alone!" The Firebending prince pulled away from her, resisting her advances, but eventually she wrestled him into a sitting position on the sand and got him to hold still. She pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek, stifling her laughter at Zuko's petulantly hissed "ow's" as she used the needle to break the excess skin around the splinter's entry point.

"Honestly," she murmured, deftly extracting the half-inch-long shard of wood from beneath his skin, holding it up to show him before flicking it away. A bead of blood welled up, a bright crimson spot against his snow-white skin. "Do you want me to heal that for you, too?"

Zuko pouted, snatching his hand away again. "I'm fine." He grumbled.

Unable to contain it any longer, Katara's face broke into a wide grin. She tittered.

"Aww, does widdle Zuzu want me to kiss it better?" She batted her lashes, pushing her lower lip out.

Zuko, still clutching his hand, stared at her, an inscrutable look on his face. That look was quickly replaced by a smirk. "Yes. I'd like that." He held out his finger boldly, hooded eyes daring her.

The water girl blinked in surprise, feeling heat crawl up her neck to burn high on her cheeks. He hadn't even thanked her and now he was demanding…?

_Arrogant son of a…_

Well, she wasn't about to let him get one up on her. No one else was around – the others had gone to town for supplies. Why not?

Before she could stop herself, she caught his large-seeming hand in hers. Katara scooted closer, bringing his fingers to her face, her thumbs gently massaging his strangely smooth palm. Without breaking eye contact, she kissed the pad of his index, blotting the spot of blood on her lower lip, warm, sticky, and slightly salty. Her upper lip brushed the tip of his fingernail and her mouth opened just a little. She watched Zuko with a smirk of her own as she teasingly dipped his finger into her mouth, flicking her tongue out so fast it was just the ghost of a lick. Heat flooded her system, as if she had just swallowed a draught of pure fire, and she nearly groaned with shuddering pleasure as her eyes fluttered closed.

The Firebender knelt there, breathless, as she drew his finger away, a quiet sucking pop sound springing from her puckered lips. Her eyes shone as she flushed an even deeper crimson.

"Better?" She asked coyly.

Zuko's eyes were hazy, his wet lips parted in a pant. "No," he moaned hoarsely, trembling.

"Well then," Katara whispered as she slid into his lap, "tell me where it hurts, and I'll see if I can help."


	34. Burned

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**Burned**

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In the hot, humid lands of the Fire Nation, children are warned about the face of Agni high above. He punished those who dared to bask in His presence overlong. In those tropical climes, the sun could kill. During the worst summer months, people of all ages, from the richest merchant to the poorest beggar, slathered on ointments and lotions and creams and oils to protect their pale complexions. The formulas of the various types of sunscreen available differed from class to class, but everyone in the Fire Nation knew the consequences of not using protection.

Iroh tossed his nephew a jar. "You know you have to."

Zuko frowned and began liberally applying the thick white ointment to the back of his neck and onto his face. He hated the stuff. It smelled like old people and made his skin clammy. This goop was made for peasants and soldiers. Back when he'd still lived in the palace, the sun lotions he had used were of the highest quality, scented delicately with lilacs and applied by soft-handed maids. Even so, he'd never enjoyed this summertime ritual, but knew if he didn't put sunscreen on, Uncle would nag him all day, his pale skin would inevitably burn, and then he'd go to bed sore and feverish and red as a lobster.

Nearby, the rest of the gang was following suit. He grudgingly admitted that traveling with the Avatar's crew did have one advantage: freebies and discounts, not to mention a modest purse of Water Tribe money that afforded them this much-needed toiletry. He watched the water siblings gingerly rub the cream over their skin.

"You're not doing it right," he said to the Waterbender. Her face was puckered in a look of disdain as she rubbed a tiny dollop of sunscreen onto the back of her neck.

She turned to scowl at him, but her face froze as she took in his appearance. Katara burst out laughing.

"You look like a clown!" She chortled. Sokka turned to see what was so funny, and promptly doubled over, guffawing.

Zuko crossed his arms over his chest. "Laugh all you want, but you're definitely not putting enough of that stuff on. If you don't slather it on thick, you'll burn for sure."

"And if we slather it on as thickly as you did, we'll look like frosted cakes," Sokka sniggered.

The prince lifted his chin into the air. "Huh. Well, don't say I didn't warn you. This isn't the South Pole, you know. You don't have parkas to protect you from the rays, and it's, like, a hundred degrees out here. You'll either bake in your clothes, or fry in the sun."

"Zuko's right," Aang piped up. They looked over at him and their laughter tripled, hooting wildly at the sight of his bald head daubed thickly with the ointment. He was in the process of applying it to Toph's face, neck, and arms as well. The Earthbender girl was even applying it to the exposed tops of her feet. "I've had some pretty bad burns flying on Appa, and there isn't a whole lot of shade in the sky."

"Thanks, _mom_, but I'm sure we'll be fine," Katara rolled her eyes. "Sokka and I dealt with sun all the time back home. We had months of midnight sun – you know, day and night, where there is no night and the sun is up all the time? And we can take a little summer heat, can't we, Sokka?"

"It'll give me a chance to work on my tan," Sokka stretched languorously as the Waterbender offered the barely touched jar of sunscreen to the prince, who rolled his eyes right back at her.

"Agni have mercy on you two," he said with an almost piteous look. Then he leaned in and said lowly, "You'll want me to come by your tent later tonight."

Katara quirked an eyebrow. She must have heard him wrong.

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When the blazing sun had finally, FINALLY sunk below the horizon, Sokka lay whimpering on his sleeping bag in the cooling night, trying to find a patch of skin that wasn't seared and blistered to lie comfortably on. True to his word, he had worked on his tan…and paid severely for it. His whole chest now radiated heat. Toph gazed sightlessly down at him. She toed him and he yelped in pain. 

"Hey Iroh, forget about the fire tonight! We'll just cook our eggs on Sokka's back!" she called. The old general laughed heartily.

In her tent, stripped down to her underclothes, Katara lay on her front moaning, too headachy and feverish to heal herself. Unlike Sokka, she had kept her shirt on, but what skin had been exposed was now the colour of a ripe tomato, and hot to the touch.

A rustle of the tent flap told her someone had arrived. The heady scent of wood smoke and teenage boy identified her visitor.

"Come to gloat?" her voice was muffled by the pillow she lay face-down on.

"Yes," Zuko sat down cross-legged by her side.

The girl's next string of muffled words gave him some direction about where he should go and suggested some unkind things about his relationship with his mother. The Firebender said nothing. She heard the sound of a lid being unscrewed from a jar. A sudden coolness touched her fiery skin at the nape of her neck and she yelped, her muscles jumping beneath his fingers. Zuko pushed her gently back down onto her front.

"Relax. It's just cold cream. It'll make you feel better," his hand traveled down her neck, spreading the soothing ointment over her back, shoulders, and arms. Too exhausted from sunstroke, Katara could do nothing but let him run his hands over her. She was vaguely aware that this was probably in that category of things Sokka would beat Zuko up for, but her brother was down for the count. Besides, the prince's firm touch and no-nonsense ministrations were reassuring rather than erotic. That, at least, is what the Waterbender made herself believe.

She relaxed as he spread the goop over her, wondering when and where he had developed his bedside manner, and whether he would give her oven-roasted brother the same gentle treatment. He unclasped the necklace and put it by her hand so she would know it was still nearby, then clucked his tongue like a mother hen at the band of unsinged flesh it had left, a stripe of light mocha against a field of deep crimson-flecked fuchsia that showed just how bad the burns were. In her haze, she barely made out his low, husky admonishments, even as he rolled her onto her back by wrapping a strong arm around her waist.

Only when their hips bumped did she realize just how cozy they were in her tent, and how comfortable she was with him there. Having identified this predicament, of course, Katara tensed up. How was she supposed to feel? It wasn't as if Zuko was her ideal man… it's not like she would ever marry him or anything, but her brain started working, and she became more and more agitated even as he settled her onto her back, his breath brushing her cheek.

She kept her eyes closed, a little afraid that if she opened them, Zuko would be gone and this would all be a dream. A little shiver ran through her as he put more of the soothing cold cream onto her shoulders and collarbone, his fingers dipping down and across the slope of her breasts.

"Oh!" she gasped.

"Sorry, did that hurt?" Zuko took his hand away, and Katara's eyes snapped open, her nerves jangled, wild alarms blaring in her head. She could barely see him sitting there, and couldn't see the look on his face, though she tried to peer up at him. A shaft of moonlight streaming in from the open tent flap did nothing to help her sight – the prince's back was to the exit.

The electricity fizzling beneath her skin where he had touched her seeped into her bones. She became aware that she was staring at him, and she eased herself onto her back once more, wanting only more of the relief he was lavishing upon her fevered body.

When she closed her eyes again, he resumed his nursing. Her skin was now pebbled with goose bumps that only prickled more beneath his fingertips. She would have liked to know what was going on through his mind, what he was thinking as she lay there in the dark, letting him touch her. She nearly screamed at herself; Zuko was just helping her. She had healed him hundreds of times, surely he was just paying her back for her kindness?

The water girl swore she could _hear_ the Firebender grinning.

When his touch left her body, a little ripple of regret passed through her. Katara heard him screw the lid of the jar back on. She sighed in relief and contentment. A sheath of damp coolness enveloped her skin, and she no longer felt weighed down by fever. In that husky voice she was really beginning to like too much, he wished her good night and exited. Her tumultuous feelings and the awakening of some deep creature within her breast only kept her eyes open for a short time before all thought was obliterated by heat fatigue. Soon she drifted into a deep summer slumber, dreaming of cool snow banks and the warm gentle touch of a handsome prince.

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The next morning, she wondered if it had all been a dream. She ached all over, but the burn had been quelled. 

She emerged from the tent to see a green Sokka.

Her face contorted in preparation for a good long laugh, but then he spotted her and mirrored her look of amused incredulity.

"Well, good morning to you two," Iroh grinned at them both, his stout form quivering with merriment. "I see my nephew made sure you got the cold cream." He winked at Katara discreetly.

Sokka cried, "What are you talking about? My sister's GREEN!"

"Speak for yourself, Sokka!" But then Katara's eyes widened as she looked down at her forearms. They were a deep forest green. Her brother's chest, back, and face were the same shade. She imagined she looked much the same, remembering where Zuko had touched her...

And then she realized what the Firebending prince had done. His soothing words and touch, the soft voice, the cold cream made of seaweed extracts and aloe…

The cold cream had dyed them both green. Zuko had played them both.

"ZUKO!" The water siblings cried in unison.

A little distance off, the prince basked in the sun and laughed long and hard.


	35. Respects

**When I heard the news about Mako's passing, I wanted to make some kind of tribute. It feels as though I really have lost a favourite uncle, and I know lots of fans feel the same way.**

**I can never write or say enough about a man I know so little about and didn't know at all. But Mako touched the lives of people, young and old, all over the world with his life's work in the performing arts. His death is a sober reminder of how much we should appreciate the people around us, especially our elders, who have much wisdom and experience to offer the young.**

**I dedicate this piece to his memory.**

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**Respects**

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"But why do _I_ have to go?" the boy fussed with the clip-on tie because it was scraping at his neck.

"You know Uncle can't, and this was someone he was very close to. We're there to pay our respects for him." Mother slipped on her black flats and rechecked her makeup.

"But I don't even know the guy. Can't I just stay home?"

"No, son." Father rarely used his don't-whine-at-me-or-I'll-bitch-slap-you voice, but he did now as he adjusted the white armband over the sleeve of his dark suit. "We must show our respect to our elders. They are our teachers, and have much wisdom and experience to offer."

The boy snorted derisively and muttered, "I don't see why _I_ have to be there. It's not like this is _Uncle's_ funeral."

Father whirled on him angrily. "Don't you even _think_ about that. You should cherish every moment you have with your Uncle! If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be…"

The pale boy's eyes were wide with confusion and hurt. His father stopped himself, sighed and knelt down on one knee, placing a placating hand on his 12-year-old son's left shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be cross with you. I didn't know the old man either, but…" he looked to his wife, and she nodded in encouragement.

"When you were born, your mother and I asked Uncle to name you. We didn't know who he had christened you after – he only ever said it was someone he was very close to. He treated it like it was some big, funny secret. You know Uncle's weird jokes." He smiled briefly. "We didn't know about your namesake until he got news that his friend had died. Your uncle called me up to attend the services in his stead because, well, you know his heart…"

"You mean," the boy's round, blue eyes flickered from his mother to his father, "I'm named after _the dead guy?"_

His mother's lips twisted, but her tone was solemn. "That's right. Do you understand now why it's important you be there?"

The boy reeled a little at this revelation, felt his mother's slim brown hand rest reassuringly over his right shoulder. He looked into his father's beseeching amber eyes, sparkling with unshed tears.

The young boy nodded silently.

"Good boy. It'll mean a lot to your Uncle Iroh." He stood and started for the door. "I'll go warm up the car."

"Can we—" The young boy's sudden, halting remark stopped his father in his tracks "—can we… maybe… go see Uncle at the home? After the funeral?"

Father grinned. "Sure thing."

"And can we bring him McDonalds?"

His father laughed. "We'll see." He walked out into the rain to start the car.

Mother kissed him on the temple and ruffled his hair. "You're a good boy, Mako."

"Aw, mom."

"Now go get your shoes. We've got a long way to go."


	36. Overdue Fines

**For Demona SaDiablo: I was going to write a ditty about the erotica collection in Wan Shi Tong's library, but this is what I came up with instead.**

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**Overdue Fines**

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Sokka had never been one for girly scrolls. They hadn't had them in the South Pole when he had lived there, after all. Besides, the guy had girls _flocking_ around him after the war. He could easily have had any woman he wanted. That said, what did he need with pictures of naked women, anyhow?

Of course, when he actually discovered the…er, _artistic_ value or such pieces of…uh…graphic literature, he couldn't help but secret one away now and again when he found the renderings particularly…how should I put this…_stylistic. _The Fire Nation was, after all, a cultural hub that, after the war, encouraged all…um…art forms. I suppose, in his defense, that I could say Sokka was just another patron of the arts. But I didn't know at the time just how generous a patron he was.

I didn't confirm the existence of his unique and rather discriminating collection until one day, when I found him frantically searching through his room, digging under the futon, emptying his closet, even rolling up the large rugs.

"Sokka?"

He looked up from the ground, narrowing icy blue eyes. "It was _you,_ wasn't it?" The look he sent me was dirtier than the one he'd given me when I had declared my intentions to date his sister. "You had the servants clean out my collection!"

"I've no idea what you're talking about." I did, but I wasn't about to play into his accusation.

He continued tearing through his ramshackle room. "Every week for the past two months, _someone_ has been coming into my room and stealing my…my…" His face turned a becoming shade of anger- and embarrassment-induced vermillion.

I insisted he calm down and promised to do everything in my power to help (to shut him up). Of course, theft in the palace—_my_ palace—was intolerable, and I was determined to discover the identity of Sokka's…er, porn thief.

With my help, we set a trap using a rare and rather titillating scroll from the palace library's special collection, endeavoring to find out who this bawdy bandit was. At nightfall, we hid in the large armoire and waited with bated breath.

"This is ridiculous," the Water Tribe warrior hissed after an hour in the dark. "No one's stupid enough to fall for this!"

I refrained from pointing out that he had been the idea guy behind the operation, but before I could even respond with a derisive snort, the _sproing!_ of the spring mechanism releasing and the swish of the net dropping upon the would-be robber distracted us, and we pounced from the closet to confront our foe.

But no black-clad burglar did we find. Instead, a silvery vixen sat serenely on her haunches beneath the net, the scroll held delicately in her mouth, her bushy tail flicking irately back and forth. The fox was not panicking or struggling or entangling herself in the fine webbing of waxed hemp draped over her—she simply looked irritated. Sokka peered closely.

"It's…that's…" He stiffened, indignation writ large across his face. "So HE'S got my stuff?"

The fox shrugged her hackles and let out a tired sigh, seeming to roll her eyes as she tossed her head. I almost followed suit. Katara's brother spread his mixture of righteous anger, sarcasm and resentment around as easily and copiously as Appa's drool over a cartful of cabbages, and I was not about to support him this time by inciting him with questions better asked of his more pleasant-looking and level-headed sibling.

The vixen turned dark eyes upon me and whined, dropping her sleek head in submission and gently putting the scroll down on the floor in defeat. Satisfied by the animal's honorable surrender, I moved in to release the beautiful canine.

"Hold on." Sokka stayed my hand and bent to speak with the creature.

Now, I have seen this young man in conversation with other animals, including a six-legged flying bison and a flying lemur, but that he was actually _bargaining_ with the fox made me question whether that boomerang to the head he'd accidentally taken during training sessions earlier hadn't affected his mind.

I watched, perplexed, as he carefully pulled the net off the fox and rose, going to his desk, the silvery creature following a pace behind. Sokka took out an old canvas satchel and began pulling old maps, diagrams and other assorted paraphernalia from a number of drawers and files, carefully stuffing them into the sack. I recognized some of the pieces as ones he'd had since before the end of the war, and asked him what he was doing with those prized mementos.

"I have overdue fines to pay," he said grimly and slung the bag around the vixen's body, securing the bulk of it comfortably around her torso. He handfed the fox a piece of jerky from his cold dinner plate and stroked her head, and I heard him say lowly to her: "Remember, I want them _all_ back. _Especially _the Girls of the North Gone Wild scroll. Got it?"

The fox shuddered and sprang to her feet, leaping out the open balcony and galloping away into the night. Sokka watched her go, then closed the glass doors with a click.

"The moral of the story," Sokka declared wryly to me as I tried to sidle out, "is never piss a librarian off."

I politely agreed and recommended, in the meantime, that he visit a tavern where he could observe his Girls Gone Wild somewhere where I would not have to hear about it ever again.


	37. Clarity by Moonlight

**I wrote this in honour of Mid-Autumn Harvest Moon Festival (Oct. 6). Hope you had a good one!  
**

* * *

**Clarity By Moonlight  
**

* * *

"So once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess…" 

"That's not how it goes."

"Hey, who's telling the story here?"

"Fine, Sokka, whatever…" Katara flopped back onto her sleeping bag, laid out on the paved courtyard so she could comfortably gaze up at the huge silver globe of the moon on the field of black velvet night above them. It was so bright that night her eyes watered.

"So once upon a time, there was this beautiful princess named Chang'E who was engaged to a handsome archer named Hou Yi. Oh, and they were both immortal. In the time before the four nations existed, there were ten suns, see, and one day…"

"How could there be ten suns?" Aang interrupted. "I mean, wouldn't it be kinda hot?"

Sokka ignored him. "So one day, all ten suns rose at the same time, scorching the earth. Chang'E felt sorry for the people of the world, so she asked her husband to shoot down nine of the suns with his magic bow and arrows…"

Toph chimed in. "What if they fell to earth and killed a bunch of people? How do you think Chang'E would've felt about that?"

"Would you stop interrupting me? I'm trying here, okay?" Sokka exclaimed huffily. The blind girl grinned impishly and made a zipping motion across her lips. "Anyhow, the gods got angry at them for shooting the suns out of the sky and banished them both to earth. So to become immortal again, Hou Yi went on a quest and got an immortality pill, but he only found one…"

"And I bet the wife took it." Zuko made a face. "Women."

Sokka glowered at the prince for ruining his ending, but went on. "As an immortal, Chang'E floated up to live in the moon. And every year around harvest, Hou Yi gets to visit her, so that's why the moon is so bright for the Mid-Autumn Festival."

The Fire prince snorted derisively. "The way I heard it, Hou Yi's shot down the nine suns and was rewarded with the elixir of life. He hid it away, but then his wife found it swallowed it out of curiosity, then floated up to the moon. I mean, how stupid is that? Putting something in your mouth when you don't know what it is."

Katara snickered, sending a knowing look to her brother. "I'm pretty sure the way Gran Gran told it, Hou Yi was a tyrant who shot the suns down and became emperor, and, obsessed with becoming an immortal, stole the elixir of life from a goddess. His wife supposedly stole it back and as she ran away, drank it and flew up to the moon. And now she lives there with a rabbit…or something like that."

"The Jade Rabbit," Aang piped up. "I know _that_ story. Three immortal sages who lived in the Moon Palace came down to earth in mortal form as beggars, and asked for food to eat from a fox, a monkey, and a rabbit. The fox and monkey both had food to give, but the rabbit didn't, and offered himself as a meal, jumping into the fire to cook his own flesh so the beggar sages could eat. The sages were so touched by his sacrifice that they exalted him and made him move into the Moon Palace to live for the rest of eternity."

"Ew!" The group exclaimed. "That's just sick."

"Why do you think I'm a vegetarian?" Aang said wryly, waving a carrot at them.

Katara asked, "Do you have any Mid-Autumn tales, Toph?"

"Just the one about the moon cakes and how they were used to pass military secrets between camps. It's not an origin story, but I think it's pretty cool."

"Speaking of moon cakes," Sokka sat up, "Where's Iroh?"

The old man came bounding into view just then, his canvas shoes slapping loudly against the cobblestones.

"Moon cakes!" He declared, brandishing two boxes of the sweet, rich desserts. "The servants are bringing tea, too."

"Are those…lanterns?" Zuko asked, looking at the brightly coloured things under his uncle's arm.

"Of course, Prince Zuko. Otherwise, how will Hou Yi find his way to the moon?"

"We're a little old to be playing with lanterns, General Iroh," Katara said. "But thanks for thinking of us."

"You'll be wanting to handle these soon enough." The old Firebender began to unfold the gorgeous paper lanterns, and Aang and Sokka's eyes went wide with glee.

"Ooh…pretty…" they crooned, and as Iroh lit them, even Zuko's eyes went glassy with longing.

"We've been discussing the origin story about the Mid-Autumn Harvest Moon festival," the water girl explained to the old man. "I don't suppose you could tell us which is the right version of the story?"

Iroh tugged at his beard thoughtfully, smiling widely at this group of young people who were too old to believe in fairy tales, but young enough to appreciate them. "There are no right versions when it comes to fantasies and legends and I wouldn't deign to sully your impressions of the story of Chang'E and Hou Yi. It is not my place to tell you the truth."

"So there really was a Chang'E and Hou Yi?" Aang sat up, ears perked.

"Did you know them?" Sokka asked.

"I'm not that old, Sokka." Iroh chuckled. "The Mid-Autumn Harvest Moon festival is simply a time to appreciate what the farmers in the fields have reaped for us all year, falling on the day when the light of the sun brightens the moon to its utmost, symbolizing the balance of Yin and Yang." He began opening the boxes of moon cakes. "These tales we tell to explain why we do the things we do today are only for diversion. What's important is that these holidays bring us all together so that we can share a common tradition and be united in our customs and beliefs. And to eat good food, of course." He lifted the lid off the first box of moon cakes and smiled down at the perfect lotus paste-stuffed pastries, and got to work on opening the second box.

"But Uncle, if there are so many different versions of the story, don't we risk conflict over the political or historical significance? Don't we risk losing the meaning of the holiday?" Zuko asked. "People have started wars over less."

"Yeah, like the Gan jin and Zhang tribes' feud over their redemption ritual, or like that time I was accused of murdering Chin the Conqueror in a past life… Well, it turns out I did, but still…" Aang floundered for clarity, "…I wasn't the bad guy."

"History is not always kinds to its subjects," Iroh proclaimed sagely. "Chang'E and Hou Yi have alternately been portrayed as villains and heroes, lovers and enemies. The 'truth' is left up to the interpretation of the storyteller, or historian, or politician. We can't say for certain who is the bad guy and who is the good guy. Perhaps there was no bad guy at all. Perhaps the tale was simply a metaphor for some greater thing happening around a pair of lovers stuck in the midst of a difficult time in history, and embellished for the sake of entertainment." The retired general studied the moon cakes in the second box and began slicing the heavy dessert cakes into bite-sized pieces.

"So, what you're saying is…you don't know squat," Sokka concluded blandly.

Iroh grinned. "Cultural traditions have their purpose, their uses, just as stories do. What we need to remember is that sometimes, they are just stories." He passed the box around and everyone took a piece of the dessert cake. "Now let's all enjoy the rest of the evening. It's not every day we can see so clearly by the light of the moon."

* * *


	38. The Guardian

**Bluetara! Because I can...  
**

* * *

**The Guardian  
**

* * *

"Put me down!" Katara cried softly, but clung tighter to the mysterious masked stranger as He stealthily leapt the gap between the out buildings beyond the Dai Li's secret complex. She could feel the way His muscles rippled and bunched beneath His rough clothing, could almost discern the laboured breathing beneath that wicked blue and white visage, and she had the oddest sense she'd heard it before. 

Of course, that sense of familiarity had washed through her on their first meeting in the grand Earth Kingdom city, when she'd witnessed Him dispatch a pair of thugs beating up an old man in an alleyway in the middle ring. She had heard the old man's cries for help and rushed to the rescue, water skin at her side, but when she found him, so had He.

_The Blue Spirit_, she'd gasped, remembering the Fire Nation wanted posters plastered across the land. And at His feet were the culprits, two swarthy, burly fellows, heaped one on top of the other, their intended victim leaning wide-eyed against the far wall, the contents of his meager money pouch splayed across the ground.

And then He'd spotted her. The figure in black had stilled at her appearance at the mouth of the alley, His spine snapping straight in what Katara could only ascribe to recognition. He deftly sheathed the menacing twin broadswords, cast her one more look, then melted into the night, leaving her alone to tend to the victim's injuries.

"Praise the Spirits!" The old man had cried in relief as she healed a scrape. "They've sent us a Guardian in that hero!"

But she would not have called him that. It took her a sleepless night on her pallet—restless and oddly aroused—before she realized it. After all, she had learned how to recognize fighting styles and to spot her opponents' defensive idiosyncrasies. That wide stance, the lithe movements, and of course, His almost liquid handling of the broadswords…she knew them well. No, He was no Guardian. Or at least, she didn't think He was…

But now, couched in his arms, breathing in that heady, metallic boy-scent that seemed to linger around all teenage males as He whisked her away from danger, Katara was certain.

She hugged Him closer. Proud, sad, elated, confused…

They dropped down from the rooftops, their efficient escape unnoticed, and landed in a narrow, cluttered alley between two hovels at the outer edge of the middle ring. He set her down silently and made to hasten away, but Katara grabbed Him by the wrist, thick and strong in her tiny-seeming grasp.

"Wait," she called, a husky whisper tempered by yearning more than necessity. "I…I want to say thank you."

The grinning mask stared mutely back at her. He shrugged imperceptibly, hitching one shoulder carelessly up. He pulled out of her grasp again.

"Stop," she pleaded more firmly, and surprisingly, He did. "You…you've come a long way."

This statement made Him pause. He cocked His head a little to one side.

"I know who you are," she murmured, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. "I know…we've had our differences in the past, had our share of fights…but you've changed." She approached Him slowly, pinning Him with her gaze. Heat and nervousness fluttered through her, and she swallowed dryly. "I can see that now. I always thought you were some kind of thug… Maybe this is who you really are. Who you've always been, and the other you was a mask…" She stood toe to toe with Him, and lifted a trembling hand upwards, her fingertips trailing up His broad, heaving chest.

He was leaning toward her now, not even trying to escape back into the darkness. She could hear the hitch in His quiet breath, sense the way He was straining forward, as though suppressing the dire magnetism she herself had been fantasizing about giving in to since their first meeting.

Her hand skimmed up to the smooth, lacquered shell, and her fingers traced the edge of the mask, feeling the crescent of stubble-roughened skin beneath, pulling, lifting. But He quickly stopped her, pressing her small hands against His cheeks to keep her from moving.

Katara trembled at His touch, hot even through His gloves. "It's okay," she whispered. "I want to say thank you properly…I want to say I'm sorry for what happened between us before, for freezing you and all that. I want…I want…" He gently released her hands and let her inch the mask up to just under His nose, exposing a pair of soft, parted lips. She leaned in, closing her eyes, and He dipped His head down before hearing her whisper:

"…Jet…"

* * *

**Muahaha! Mine is an evil laugh! Incidentally, if this had already been written...well...I suck for not keeping up with what on the net these days...**


	39. Bad Habits

**Because I need to fuel my inner Zuko fan... **

* * *

**Bad Habits**

* * *

"_Princes don't have bad habits."_

That is what Zuko's etiquette teachers told him, day after grueling day as they

corrected  
his  
posture;

drilled his formal salutations ("Good evening, Lord So-and-So of the So-and-So empire, Your So-So-ness…);

Made.  
Him.  
EEE  
NUN  
SEE  
ATE

every royal word he spoke (because they simply _had_ to drive that garish lisp out, which, even ten years later, still showed up when Zuko was nervous); and basically tortured him out of his adolescent fidgeting so he'd SIT! STILL!

For you see, Zuko was a prince. And princes don't have bad habits.

But Zuko _did_ have bad habits. Bad habit. Singular. That's what he thought it was, anyhow. He'd just never admitted it to anyone, never let anyone see him indulging himself.

Because princes don't have bad habits.

He reached up and speared his digits through the coarse, unkempt growth of hair, the ghost of the long silky queue he'd lobbed off months earlier palpable in his mind's eye. He sighed. It'd be months more before he could feel that luscious cascade feathering against the back of his neck again, like a lover's soft kiss…

His hands itched. He flexed his long fingers, hastily running them through the cool grass…but no…it just wasn't the same.

He ran a palm over his scalp once more, feeling the rounded slope of his skull, the jagged, too-short ends of his ebony mop, that drop-off where his symbol of power and virility had once been, and he growled in frustration. If he could just feel that thick rope of silk in his hands once more…

And then finally, after months of this torment, his compulsion finally drove him to the brink of sanity. _Stop it!_ he screamed at himself as he desperately scanned his sleeping traveling companions for help. Escape. Relief. _Princes don't have bad habits!_

But princes did have _needs_. Needs that Zuko simply could not fathom being denied, not even by this ragtag bunch of peasants and commoners.

And this was a simple need, wasn't it? he reasoned with himself as he scuttled stealthily toward the slumbering quartet. They were a team. They were teammates. They would not deny him this…not if they knew how much he needed it…

His hands were surprisingly steady. The tie unraveled easily, a slip of rough, dark linen trickling out of the silky auburn cascade. Gently, _gently,_ he slid his fingers into the cool tresses, rolling his eyes in ecstasy as he plundered that glossy mane, raking his hands softly through that length of wondrous chocolate hair…

And then she stirred. Katara slowly opened her eyes and focused in on the pale Firebender, his figure limned by the light of the moon. She blinked slowly, languidly studying his hazy simper, his face a study in gratified perversion.

Her eyes suddenly widened with horrific realization and she scrambled to her feet, tangling herself up in her sleeping bag, shrieking. "ZUKO! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO SOKKA!"

Princes don't have bad habits.

But they do have some very strange fetishes.

* * *

**Okay, so I have a Zuko/weird fetish/hair thing going on. I can't help it, I miss Prince Angst Muffin and that sexy bald head with the ponytail.**


	40. Thankful

**A Thanksgiving gift for all you American Avatards - sorry I couldn't post on the weekend .  
**

* * *

**Thankful**

* * *

"You're hunting a what?"

"A turducken," Sokka hissed. "Now be quiet or you'll scare them away."

Zuko frowned and turned his gaze at the trap the Water boy had set. "Are you sure you have the right bait? I mean, how do you know what it eats if you've never even seen one?"

"A merchant in town told me about them. They're supposed to be delicious roasted over the fire, but ultra-rare. Apparently, though, they come out on this day and are easy targets."

Zuko raised a brow skeptically. "Do you think Aang is going approve of this? I mean, if they're so rare…"

"They're rare because they're stupid. That's the natural order of things. If the turducken is too stupid to keep from being eaten, then that makes it the perfect candidate for dinner." He scowled. "Now, sshhhhhhh!"

Zuko squatted there a minute more, regarding the boy and the trap with equal disdain. "You know you're in for a world of karmic retribution, right?" He stood and brushed himself off.

"Where are you going?" Sokka asked, wincing at the crunch Zuko's boots made.

"Back to camp. I think Katara's making some root stew or something. I'd rather chance her cooking than wait out here for some mystical beast." The exile waved. "Have fun."

Sokka grumbled something at the Firebender's back. Well, if Zuko wasn't going to help him catch a turducken, then there'd be more for Sokka.

_We'll see who has the last laugh._

* * *

"You found him! Oh, Sokka, are you alright?" Katara ran to help her brother, covered in large bruises and nasty cuts, his clothing torn and bloodstained. Zuko and Aang held him upright, each beneath one arm, and helped settle the young man on his sleeping bag while his sister worked on his injuries. "We were so worried when you didn't come back from hunting last night…" Katara said softly. 

"Turducken…" Sokka murmured. "So…so very big…" He shuddered and closed his eyes.

"Wait, you went hunting for a turducken?" Aang asked. "Sokka, are you crazy? Don't you know what those things can do to you?"

"He told me those things were rare," Zuko said, indicating Katara's patient, "and stupid. He said it'd be an easy catch."

Aang frowned. "Turduckens are ten-foot beasts with razor sharp beaks and talons. And they're rare because whenever they encounter one another in the wild, they fight to the death." Aang looked down at the Water Tribe warrior with awe. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are? You're probably one of the only people who has ever survived a turducken attack!"

Sokka moaned. "It would have been so…tasty…"

"You have your life, idiot," Zuko grunted. "Be thankful."


	41. Inevitable

**In honour of tonight's season finale.**

* * *

**Inevitable **

* * *

Zuko didn't know what it was, but he _felt it._

Like the first few drops of rain, he knew _something_ was coming, but he seemed to be the only one who'd sensed it.

The tension in the air stretched like a membrane around that jagged hole in the ground, a twisted mouth in the earth, and the entrance to the cave winding down, down, down almost seemed to resist his narrow-eyed scrutiny.

"I don't like it," he said out loud. "Call me crazy, but I have this bad feeling that if I go down there…something awful is going to happen. I can feel it, Uncle."

"Don't worry, my nephew." Iroh grinned, then gave him a hearty push. Zuko yelped as he tumbled blindly into the cavern's ominous depths, his protesting cry echoing back up to the general before the old man heard a dusty thump, followed by a groan.

_"Why?"_ Came the teen's indignant shout from below. "Why'd you do that?"

"Because Zutara has to happen sometime."

"What?"

Iroh turned and left, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.


	42. Brighter Times Ahead

**In celebration of Winter Solstice (Dec. 21)!**

* * *

**Brighter Times Ahead**

* * *

"These," Zuko announced boldly as he set the tray down, "are _tangyuen_." 

The group peered over the exiled prince's aproned form. "They look like little snowballs," Katara remarked.

"Or just little balls of dough." Sokka made a face. "I dunno about this. The Fire Nation has some awfully weird foods."

"Actually, _tangyuen_ are from the Earth Kingdom," Toph informed them. "We eat them every Winter Solstice."

"I used to eat them all the time in the Air Temple, too," Aang said. "Though the ones I had were all different colours. I think they have them pretty much everywhere."

"Are you sure this is safe to eat?" The Water Tribe boy picked up a bowl and eyed its contents—and their creator—critically.

Zuko's lips twisted wryly, but he managed to suppress a snort and smiled knowingly instead. "I made them myself, and yes, I'm sure they're safe. We used to serve them at the tea shop all the time. I made something like a two hundred of them by hand every week." He passed the small bowls around, each blue-and-white porcelain vessel containing four or five hazelnut-sized balls in a clear, hot, syrupy soup.

Katara sniffed the dessert. "Hmm…ginger?"

"And rock sugar," Toph said through a mouthful of doughy goo. "Gee, Angry Boy, these really are tasty. Just like home!"

The prince beamed. Encouraged, Katara carefully spooned a ball into her mouth.

Her face brightened as she chewed.

"Lotus paste!" She grinned. "I love lotus paste!"

"I got black sesame and…peanut?" Sokka chewed thoughtfully.

Zuko nodded. "I hope the broth isn't too spicy for you. I like to use a lot of ginger."

"No, it's perfect," Toph said, and downed the last of the tiny bowl's mixture, burped contentedly, and held it out for seconds. "More please."

"And here I thought Zuko's cooking would end in disaster," Sokka chided. To the prince he said, "You should cook more often."

"I see my nephew has deigned to don his apron once more for Winter Solstice," Iroh came trundling in from the kitchen, his own bowl in hand. "I could never do as good a job as he did—big, stubby old fingers of mine just don't make the balls as nice."

"Are you calling my hands womanly?"

The old general grinned and raised his bowl. "Let us toast the chef! To Zuko, and to Winter Solstice! May we see brighter times in the days ahead!"

"Hear, hear!"


	43. Knots

* * *

**Knots**

* * *

Zuko didn't know things could get worse until they did. 

Hands shackled with steel—feet too—blindfolded and oblivious to the passing of the hours (or was it days? He didn't know anymore in the dark, his stomach having gurgled past his hunger pangs), the only thing he knew was that the steel floor was cold and hard and someone had just landed heavily on top of him.

"Get off! Get off, you're crushing me!" He fairly shouted, refusing to acknowledge the panic uncurling within him. The person struggled and made squeaking noises—a girl, Zuko thought miserably—as she rolled awkwardly away, her form, petite as it was, squashing him, a solid rolling pin of soft flesh studded with bones, sheathed in rough cloth,

_"Oof!"_ An elbow, or possibly a knee, jabbed his gut, leaving him winded.

_"Mmm! Hmm mmm!"_ The muffled cry made it obvious to Zuko, blind though he was, that his cellmate was gagged as well as bound.

And was she also blindfolded? Who could say?

_"Mmm hm rmm hmmm!"_ A foot connected with his shoulder and he yelped.

"Stop it, whoever you are…just stop!" he growled. "I can't hurt you, okay?" He rattled his manacles. "See?" Or perhaps she couldn't.

The female stopped her scuffling struggle across the floor. A thoughtful pause ensued. Whoever she was, it didn't sound to Zuko as though she was wearing manacles.

The chamber fell silent once more and he suddenly felt uneasy. "Are you still there?"

The girl made a noise in the affirmative.

He hesitated, not used to making conversation without seeing his partner. "Did Azula and her peons get you, too?"

Another yes.

He murmured to himself. "At this rate, she'll have the Avatar before Uncle reaches him." Zuko struggled to his knees and carefully made his way in the direction of his cellmate's presence. The girl made a noise in panic.

"Look, can you see me? Are you blindfolded?"

A long pause ensued, but the girl answered: No.

"Well then, as you can see, I'm not much of a threat to you right now, am I?" He rattled his cuffs once more for good measure.

He turned his situation over in his mind—she could see him, but he couldn't see her, and she was reacting to him with some…revulsion. The explanation came on an internal moan.

"You're with the Avatar," he concluded slowly, and in that horrible moment, knew it was his nemesis, the Water Tribe girl. "Aren't you?"

The captive growled out a positive.

A heartbeat, and then he laughed harshly. "Well, at least my sister did _something_ right in gagging you, peasant."

Even through the binding, the exiled prince could distinguish the meaning of "Who are you calling peasant?"

"Alright, stop fighting, you're going to choke yourself. I'll do the talking for both of us." He smiled smugly, and hoped she saw that, too. "Look, if we want to get out of here, we're going to have to help each other out, so just listen." He finally edged close enough to lean against her small frame and she squeaked. "Will you relax? Trust me, I wouldn't think of doing anything…_vulgar_ with _you._" He collapsed onto his bottom and felt his way around her body with his stiff fingertips. The girl held her breath.

"Hmm. I guess they didn't think you were enough of a threat to warrant manacles," he noted, feeling the rope bindings around the girl's wrists. Unfortunately, he didn't have enough range of motion in his hands to conjure a flame and singe them off. His large hands touched hers and the shock of the gentle contact made her flinch.

Zuko took charge. "Okay, I think that if I position myself right, you can help me get my blindfold off."

She protested with a grunt.

"What? You don't trust me?" He pondered that and frowned. No, he supposed she wouldn't. "Okay, how about I take your gag off first? Then you can help me get my blindfold off. Will that make you happy?"

All he could hear was her labored breathing for a long, long time. He figured she was trying to work out how he'd remove the gag without the use of his hands or Firebending, and he knew explaining it was going to be awkward.

He said shortly, "I'll use my teeth, of course."

Delivered as flatly as he could manage, it still sounded like a come on. "Look—" he had to interrupt the flush threatening his cheeks "—if you want even a chance of getting out of here, we have to work together. I know you don't trust me, and I don't like you, but what choice do either of us have?"

Another drawn-out silence. Zuko didn't move. But gradually, he heard the scuffle of movement, and then a lean body, with all its soft curves and hard female angles, pressed against his side.

He turned his head, smelling the faint flowery, earthy scent of girl, and stifled his body's reaction with a quelling reprimand in the form of one word: _peasant._

She seemed to be waiting. Zuko took a breath and leaned forward, feeling ahead of him with his chin and the tip of his nose. But it was his lips that made first contact with the delicate shell of ear embedded in soft, fragrant hair.

The girl stiffened as he burrowed in.

"Don't you dare take any pleasure in this," he grumbled into that thick mane, as much to himself as to the peasant girl. He dipped his head lower, lips parted to find the edge of the gag, but found her jaw instead, a slant of clenched muscle and taut sinew. He brushed his cheek over hers and felt the piece of fabric wound around her head.

"You're lucky, you know," he said to ease some of the tension, his blood pumping through him like slow lava. Uncle would enjoy seeing his nephew in this compromising situation far too much if he were here. "Azula has a cruel streak that makes Zhao look like a cuddly turtle-duck. I'm surprised she didn't cut your tongue out rather than gag you."

The girl froze.

"Of course, she probably didn't want peasant cooties."

He could sense her seething, her body heat carrying that deliciously feminine scent. He really, really had to stop smelling her and touching her so intimately before his teenage imagination kicked into gear.

He snagged at the gag, scraping his teeth against the girl's hair where the cloth was tightly bound. "You're going to have to stop chomping on the thing, I can't get a hold of it," he directed, then tried again, closer to her jaw line.

He could hear her shallow breathing as he nipped and nibbled like a rodent, his lips caressing her sweet-smelling skin in a series of gentle kisses. Every indignant brush sent a sumptuous thrill through his core, and, because they were enemies, he felt a cruel urge to distress her, to lick a path across her flesh and make her writhe and cry out in dismay, being so openly at the mercy of her mortal adversary.

Only because they enemies, of course.

But he steadied himself and focused. Finding that none of his ginger tactics was working, he pursed his lips and dove in with renewed fervor, causing the girl to recoil.

"Just…hold still…" he ground out, and applied his mouth roughly to her cheek, working the circumference, blindly groping for a toothhold on the gag.

…And to his delighted horror, found himself mouth to mouth with his cellmate, his tongue eagerly slipping over and around the gag, feeling her stiff lips beneath the wet material.

His teeth caught. He tugged down.

The girl gasped, spitting and cracking her strained jaw, but to her credit, did not shriek in disgust or scream at him for having molested her—an action that would likely summon the guards if there were any nearby. In fact, she said nothing. Not even a "thanks."

"Okay," Zuko stemmed his annoyance, "now get this blindfold off me. Once I get my bearings, maybe we can figure a way out of this."

The girl made no sound. "Uh, hello?" he called impatiently. "We had a deal."

He sensed movement to his left, and once again, the girl was pressed against him. He felt her position her mouth over his left temple, her breath feathering the slightly numbed flesh of his scar, then she seemed to think better of it and moved around to his back.

Some small part of him was dismayed that she hadn't been blindfolded too, aimlessly groping his face with her lips as he had (how degrading!) But maybe it was better this way. The Water Tribe girl probably had enough issues with him already—they didn't need to complicate things anymore than they had.

Her teeth deftly caught the fat knot at the back of his head and she lifted. (Hmm, now why hadn't he thought of that?)

Black splotches bloomed and shriveled in his hazy vision as the dim light of the prison fought its way into his brain. He blinked repeatedly, getting his focus back after hours (days?) of being in the dark.

"Thank you," he said with a little effort, and steeled himself to face the Waterbender. He pivoted around on his knees. "I—"

A dark-haired, grim-looking girl—clouded eyes downcast, lips twisted in a wry, self-deprecating smile—blushed a brilliant vermillion before him.

"Now that you can see," the little Earthbender said, grinning toothily at the ground, "Could you do me a favor and scratch my nose?"


	44. Survival: A Tale in Eight Parts

* * *

**Survival: A Tale in Eight Parts**

* * *

**I. Portrait of a Girl  
**

* * *

The sobs echoed hollowly off the stone walls in the vast chamber, the place that would be his tomb. 

"Smellerbee..."

He lay there, watching little rivers flow freely down her painted cheeks, the scarlet streaks on the undersides of her chin running like blood. He realized suddenly he'd never seen the girl cry before. She'd always been tough, tougher even than Pipsqueak or The Duke. She'd never be as stoic as Longshot—quite the opposite, actually, the waif was about as temperate as a lit firecracker—but the two loyal Freedom Fighters who'd elected to join them on his new path to righteousness were definitely cut from the same cloth.

He uttered again, "Smellerbee..." But he couldn't break through her wall of tears and blubbering. She thought he was dying—that this was the end.

He sighed and turned his head wearily. "Longshot."

The archer acknowledged him with a slight inclination of his chin, never letting his eyes leave the door, an arrow knocked on the string, his bow drawn tight.

Feeling the fire in his cracked ribs flaring, Jet ground out, "Get Smellerbee to stop crying and help me up."

* * *

**II. The Compass**

* * *

The corridors were eerily—and blessedly—empty. 

"Our first bit of luck, eh?" Jet's chuckle twisted into a pained grunt. He clutched at his chest, one arm over Smellerbee's thin shoulder.

The Dai Li were probably chasing the Avatar and his friends, Longshot reasoned. That bunch would give those Earthbenders a good fight.

He would have loved to get in on the fight. He'd always known that evil and injustice didn't just wear a Firebender's uniform (even if Jet didn't), and this underground conspiracy against the Earth Kingdom and his people was just one of the enemy's many guises.

But right now, he had a duty to his leader, to his friend. It was up to him to get them all out safely.

"Longshot, which way?" Smellerbee asked, voice rising in panic, straining beneath the weight of the much taller boy slumped awkwardly over her shoulder.

He cast his gaze about, unsure. Following an archer's instincts, trusting his senses to guide him as true as an arrow, he pointed with his bow. _That way._

* * *

**III. A Bee's Burdens**

* * *

_Since when was Jet so heavy?_

Smellerbee couldn't help but think that the wiry young man must have gained some weight in their short stay in Ba Sing Sei. That, or he was a lot worse off than he let on—he had never leaned so much on anyone in his life.

They stumbled on, walking as fast as they could. Each jarring step made the older boy wince. If they encountered anyone, it would be up to Longshot to hold them off long enough for her to set Jet down and draw her own weapons. But she trusted Longshot. She trusted both of her friends.

"Hey, Smellerbee," Jet said weakly. "Did you know you smell just like a girl?" He slanted heavily against her and sniffed her hair.

"Augh! Cut it out or I'll knock you in the ribs!"

Of course, she knew he was just kidding around—he was always kidding around, especially when things got bad.

Things must have been pretty bad.

* * *

**IV. Exeunt**

* * *

They went through an unlocked portal at the end of one corridor and emerged in a large room full of huge water tanks and machinery, chugging away loudly. It was some kind of pump, and there was no way out here. 

Longshot stared around a while then pinched his brow and shook his head. He'd led them the wrong way.

"No, Longshot, this is perfect!" Jet croaked, his eyes igniting. To Smellerbee, he asked, "Do you still have those blasting jelly grenades?"

* * *

**V. Regrets**

* * *

When you have nothing to lose, everything seems like a good idea at the time. 

But when you're being tossed relentlessly around underwater, holding your breath until your lungs are ready to burst, not knowing which way is up or down, the only lifeline you have to the only people in the world you trust an inadequate rope cinched around your waist, all you can think is, _Damn, this was a really bad idea._

But Jet being Jet, he could only think one thing:

_Hell, I could really use a breath of air right now._

* * *

**VI. Clarion**

* * *

"Birds." 

"He's awake!" Smellerbee's hoarse voice exclaimed nearby.

"I hear birds," Jet said again. His way of asking, _I'm alive?_

Longshot hove into view, his straw rice paddy hat shed for the moment, the fuzz of thick black hair matted down. His face dripped water. He stared down at Jet with those impassive sable eyes…and smiled a little.

"We made it, Jet," the female Freedom Fighter cried, squeezing his shoulder gently. "And the Dai Li's complex has been totally destroyed, thanks to you."

"To us," he corrected. He made to sit up and the other two helped him until he rested on his elbows, winded from the effort. They were on a beach, the three of them still kneeling in the foaming surf. Bits of seaweed and silt clung to his fingers. The place where they had entered the secret headquarters was nowhere in sight—they must have been swept quite a distance away in the ensuing wave.

"We need to get you to a doctor right away," Smellerbee insisted. "There's a cottage nearby. Maybe someone there will help."

Jet pushed himself the rest of the way up, stifling a groan as blades of pain stabbed through his chest.

Then he noticed it: A concave shell, blue and white and shiny, the leather thongs waving at him in the churning water. He reached out and caught it with his fingertips before the tide could reclaim it.

He turned the thing over in his hands. It was a mask.

* * *

**VII. Fame**

* * *

The old man in the cottage surveyed the three whippersnappers warily as the girl (he was sure it was a girl) sheepishly explained how their friend had stupidly dived in a shallow part of the lake and injured himself terribly and could he please, please help? 

The octogenarian had no wish to harbor terrorists—the Dai Li were a ruthless bunch, and had other tactics apart from brainwashing they could employ to garner obedience. His home by Lake Laogai had afforded him that view of life in the Earth Kingdom's greatest city for most of his life now.

But then he saw it.

"Praise the beyond…the Blue Spirit!" he exclaimed on a gasp.

He ushered the young heroes in.

* * *

**VIII. Borne Again**

* * *

Weeks later, Jet and his companions were brought into a fold of rebels more secretive and less conspicuous than the Dai Li. 

"The legends of the Blue Spirit are well-known outside these walls…and even within them," the leader said reverently. "We would welcome your assistance in our fight to retake Ba Sing Sei."

The Freedom Fighter looked at each of his companions, their faces stonier than that of the lacquered visage he held lightly in his upturned palms.

He gazed at the shell, thinking back on his purpose, his reason for having started his own band of insurgents, and then for having to abandon them.

Once upon a time, it had been about survival. Then it had been about vengeance. For a time when so-called sanity had returned to him, he'd wandered, his path as aimless as the abandoned mask's had been, going wherever the tide took him.

And somehow, they'd found each other.

His was the face of a wanted man now. Perhaps it was time to take a new one.

He pressed the mask to his face. It fit perfectly.

"The Blue Spirit is here…to bring justice and serve the people," he vowed solemnly.

Vengeance. Survival. They would be one now.

* * *

**The Beginning.**

* * *


	45. An Exercise in Futility

**Long time no see. Been busy writing original fiction, but with the third season creeping up on us like a blind, crippled snail moving uphill in the winter, I thought I'd flex the fanfic muscles and try something different.**

**Sorry if those muscles have atrophied since then...  
**

* * *

**An Exercise in Futility**

* * *

Zuko paced. 

"WHEN?" he blasted suddenly, little curls of grey smoke wafting from the corners of his mouth.

Gold eyes lined with years and patience regarded him coolly. "Soon enough, my nephew."

Zuko paced some more, fists clenched at his sides. Heel, toe, heel, toe. "I don't see why it should take so damned long. It didn't take this long the first time!"

"Now, now," Iroh gentled. "Life wouldn't be interesting if things didn't change. Patterns make us complacent. Besides, you know good things are worth waiting for."

The young Firebender made a strangled noise and kicked a potted plant onto its side. But then the fury rushed out of his lungs in a big whoosh. He sagged against the wall and wailed at the ceiling, "I just want the waiting to stop! I'm going to suffocate if this keeps up!"

"Paaaatience," the old general drawled and rocked back on his heels. "Just sit down and have a cup of calming jasmine—"

The door to the Fire Lady's bedroom opened. The two men shot to their feet.

"My Lord," the nurse beamed. "Your lady is asking for you."

"Is it…?"

She nodded.

Zuko rushed in, dazed, exasperated, elated, anxious.

"Zuko," the woman smiled up at him, exhaustion etched into every delicate feature. "See what we've made together. Isn't he beautiful?"

And the young Firebender peered down at the squalling bundle in her arms and gasped in dismay. For it was only a teaser clip.

"That's when I woke up," Zuko told his uncle of the confounding dream. "I have no idea what it means. I don't even know what a _teaser clip_ is."

Iroh stared vacantly at him. "I'm sorry, didn't you betray me last season and leave me to the mercy of your sister and father?"

"And _that's_ when I woke up," Sokka concluded. "What do you think it means?"

"How the heck should I know?" Toph frowned severely at him. "Maybe if you stopped eating all that junk food before bedtime, you'd stop moaning in your sleep, too."

"And here I thought I was the only one who dreamed about Zuko," Aang and Katara said together.

They looked at each other, blinked, turned a brilliant shade of vermillion, and then turned away and pretended neither had said anything.


	46. Angel

* * *

**Angel**

* * *

Could a guardian angel be an avenging one, as well? 

Sokka knew the answer to that question now. Just as he'd come to understand other things.

The arcing slice of the twin broadswords, the curt flick of the wrists, the wide stance, the solid base on which the Blue Spirit grounded himself…they were unmistakable, and this time Sokka was _sure_ he'd seen them before.

The barely controlled rage with which the masked figure fought his enemies did not escape the Water boy's notice, either.

Down went two more Fire Nation soldiers, mercilessly culled by the deadly scything sweep of glinting steel. The Blue Spirit took a moment to stab each in the heart, finishing the job, before glancing cursorily at a stunned Sokka and jerking his head. _Time to go._

The Water Tribe warrior followed his rescuer swiftly into the woods, the slap of their footfalls pelting wetly across the dirt and gravel punctuating the labour of his heart. They scrabbled upward, climbing deeper into darkness, headed for a destination unknown.

Only when he thought his lungs would burst did they finally, finally stop. Gasping for air, Sokka fell back against the tree, watching his saviour carefully through watering eyes.

"I think we lost them," he uttered, catching his breath. The silent figure sheathed his swords, but stayed on alert, the line of his body iron-wrought with tension. He watched the dark.

"Thanks…for saving me…" Sokka grimaced and added, _"…__again."_ He straightened and folded his arms over his chest. "But really…don't you think it's time you gave up this charade?"

The blue and white mask glared at him stonily. A shaft of moonlight played expressive shadows across those twisted features. _I don't know what you're talking about._

Sokka frowned at the ground. "Look, we all wondered… We all thought… But then you showed up that one time and… And then the Fire Nation took over Ba Sing Se and…" He cut himself off and looked up. "We didn't know what to think. _I_ don't know what to think. Just…please. I have to know."

Those angular shoulders stiffened, fists clenching. The figure remained silent, retentive, as if all the pain and conflict could be stifled behind that lacquered shell. He pivoted sharply around on his heel, denying his ward's request.

But the Water Tribe boy would not be turned down. Not this time. Something vital had gone out of his strange companion since their last encounter, and it had affected him deeply. Sokka pushed off the tree and approached.

"Look, for what it's worth…whatever they did to you, it's not worth keeping the anger and hatred inside for yourself. Maybe you think it's keeping you sane, keeping you going, but it's not. It'll eat you alive, make you less than human. It's not worth it. Revenge is an empty cause."

A heartbeat, and the Blue Spirit's shoulder's slackened in acknowledgment.

"Take off your mask," Sokka said gently. He was toe to heel with him now. "Let me help you."

He reached out, running his cold-stiffened fingers up the Blue Spirit's hard back, feeling his body heat through the fabric. He flinched away at first, but Sokka's hands were strong, convincing. Slowly, he unknotted the ties holding the shell on, then tenderly cupped the chin of the grinning visage and turned the Blue Spirit to face him.

He quivered, tried to turn away.

"It's okay," Sokka murmured, bracketing his hands around the edge of the grinning face. "I won't hurt you."

He slipped the mask off.

Sokka took in the angry burn scar, the raggedly cut hair, the haunted eyes draining of bloodlust, filling with tears. The sallow face crumpled as the first, heartbreaking sobs burst past those pale pink lips.

He stared and stared, his heart emptying, his stomach turning.

"Oh…Suki," he whispered hoarsely, then clutched the girl to his chest as she began to cry. _"What have they done to you?"_

* * *

**This is, what, the third Blue Spirit surprise I've pulled? Did it work _this _time?**


	47. Protection

Had to feed my inner Zutarian with only 9 episodes to go. (Zuko, don't screw it up!)

BTW, if you haven't checked it out yet, I've started a sequel to "Til Death Do Us Part" called "In the Family Way."

* * *

**Protection**

* * *

"You need protection." 

Katara didn't turn at that voice, a sound both rough and soft, grating and sensual. Since Zuko'd joined them, she hadn't been able to escape that voice, or those hard gold eyes that seemed to follow her everywhere.

"What are you barking about now?" she sneered, back still to the Firebender as she carefully packed her bag.

"Cut the rhino leavings. We're going into battle tomorrow, Katara." Zuko appeared at her side, his expression set into its usual tight-jawed scowl. "And you don't have the right equipment to fight."

"Equipment?" she scoffed. "I have all the weapons and armour I need." To demonstrate, she drew moisture straight from the air and let it pool in her hand, forming a gauntlet of ice, which she flexed smugly. "Your concern, however, is duly noted."

She turned to go, but Zuko grabbed her wrist and, with a hot flash from those sculpted ivory hands, melted her ice glove, letting it slough wetly from her skin.

"Hey, watch it! You could have burned me!" She snatched her hand back.

"Sokka has his sword and a whole array of weapons, plus hand-to-hand training. Aang has his staff and self-defense techniques. I have my broadswords. Even Toph has that space metal bracelet. You, however, have no backup."

"Backup? I don't need—"

"If you suddenly found you couldn't Waterbend, what would you do?" He cut in ruthlessly. "You'd be completely defenseless. That's unacceptable."

"I wouldn't be defenseless," she argued hotly. "I'd…I have—" she floundered.

"You have this, now." He thrust something clutched in his fist at her.

"What? What is…"

"It's not much, but…just take it." And when she didn't accept it immediately, the prince grabbed her hand and shoved it into her palm.

The heated contact lingered, lingered, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from Zuko's quickly softening features. The severe slant of his mouth pursed, gaped a little as he inhaled sharply. And then he let go.

Katara stared, dumbfounded. She turned the worn but obviously well-loved object in her light grasp, sliding her fingers reverently over the leather sheath and up to the hilt. She drew the blade smoothly from its casing, studying the perfectly honed edge and brilliant surface.

"Never give up without a fight," she murmured, reading the inscription. She looked back up at the Firebender. "Zuko…this is beautiful."

"It's not for you to keep," he snapped.

"Oh." She averted her eyes. The pearl of affection that had welled up inside her was suddenly swallowed back down.

"It's a loaner," he elaborated flatly. "It's sharp and it'll stay sharp. Just…if you have to use it…" his lips thinned in a bleak grimace "…make sure to clean it off afterwards."

"I understand." She sheathed the dagger as smartly as her emotions. "Thank you for this." She bowed perfunctorily at the waist and turned to go.

"Katara," Zuko growled on an exasperated rush of breath. She halted in her steps. The intense, earnest look in his face made her heart surge with confounding hope tainted with just a little fear. "Make sure you get it back to me," he said lowly.

She scowled again, disappointed. "Don't worry, your highness, I won't let anything happen to your precious knife."

"I mean, I want you to return it to me." He loomed closer. "Personally."

Katara stared up at him, unable to decipher the look in his face. "O-kay..."

"Promise me," he emphasized, but more quietly, his harsh rasp turning into silk. "Swear you'll bring it back to me. That you'll…that you'll be able to give it back to me. I can't lose…it." Only inches away, she could see his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. "It's…precious to me."

The Waterbending master clutched the knife to against her heart, fingers curled jealously around the sheath. Forcing the words past her suddenly dry mouth, she said, "Yes. Of course. I promise. I will."

Their gazes tangled for a long moment, unspoken words reaching across that minor but vast space between their lips, twining meanings, engaging, understanding. Zuko moved as if to touch her again, to say more, and Katara arched to receive his benediction—

But his hand stopped midair.

And then they parted.


	48. Nativity

**Merry Christmas and Seasons Greetings to you all! Here's a little drabble to tide you over for the holidays.  
Best wishes to you and yours, and have a very happy Avatarded New Year!**

* * *

**Nativity**

* * *

"The world was never so dark and bleak as it was before the time of the Avatars," Katara began, smoothing her hair back. The others—Sokka, Toph, Aang and Zuko, with Momo and Appa huddled nearby—watched her, rapt. The campfire's dance was strangely languid tonight, its gold glow seeming muted by the single, bright star shining like a beacon high above them.

"The gods of Water, Earth, Fire and Air looked upon the lands they'd created eons ago, and upon the people—their children— populating those fertile plains. The clans and tribes were drifting apart, warring with each other, despairing, dying.

"Fruitless."

The lone word made them all shiver.

"This made the gods sad, knowing that, as brothers and sisters, their people should be united as one. As family.

"But sometimes, even families fight. They knew they could not interfere with their children's squabble directly. So they decided to send a representative on their behalf.

"Together they created one special person, and imbued their powers into his mortal frame—Earth to build his body; Water to fill his soul; Fire to feed his heart; and finally, Air to breathe life into him.

"The child opened his eyes and gazed upon his parents.

"'Who am I?' the child asked the four gods. 'What am I that you have brought into being?'

"'You are the one who will unite the people,' said the god of Water.

"'You are the one who will bring stability,' said the god of Earth.

"'You are the one who will end war and suffering,' said the god of Fire.

"'You are the thing the world needs most,' said the god of Air.

"The boy asked, 'And what would that be?'

"And the gods answered:

"Hope."


	49. The Perfect Kiss

* * *

**The Perfect Kiss**

* * *

She was a vision in spring green, with that huge tea rose blossom pinned up in her hair. He couldn't remember when he'd last seen her so clean and fresh and radiant and happy. Fastidious as Katara was, things had been crazy since that evening after the beach party. He'd gotten used to the smell of wood smoke in her hair and the tangy scent of girl sweat upon her skin. He'd probably miss it.

She moved toward him, gliding across the flagstones with all the grace of a princess. Her eyes shone with private joy and glimmer of something else. Her skin glowed bronze in the gold-orange sunset. A light summer breeze lifted her silky chestnut hair off her shoulders, and the sweet fragrance of the tea rose left ghostly impressions in his mind.

She said something…he wasn't sure what. And then, as surely as the little skip and trip of his heart and breath warned him, she was there, kissing him, lips firm upon his. No confusion. No doubt.

It could only be described as the_ perfect_ kiss.

"What are you looking at?" Mai craned her neck.

Zuko rubbed at his new scar, a little too close to his heart for his comfort, and tore his stinging eyes away from the Avatar and his girl. "Nothing."

* * *

**I couldn't help myself. As much as I loved the finale, my inner Zutarian screams for fanfiction.**


	50. Close to the Heart

**This is a companion drabble to the previous chapter, **_**The Perfect Kiss.**_

* * *

**Close to the Heart**

* * *

Mai didn't like the scar.

The shiny, fleshy starburst centered on his hard, ridged torso seemed to announce to the world all her own failings. All she saw when Zuko slipped out of his tunic were the if-onlys.

If only she'd been there to protect him. If only she'd seen Azula for what she was. If only she'd stood up to the princess months, even years ago; or simply refused to leave Omashu when her "friend" had come calling, the man she loved would not be marred so.

Zuko didn't know that was how she felt, didn't know the shame she felt at seeing it, or why she turned her face away from the disfigurement. He mistook her reaction for something else.

When he took her hand to guide it to the spot, she flinched. "It doesn't hurt," he assured her gently. "It healed over fine."

But that didn't assuage her guilt, or that feeling deep in her marrow that the mark was somehow more than just a battle scar. She'd noticed the way he rubbed at it whenever they talked about the time he spent among the Avatar and his friends. She'd seen that faraway look in his eyes, heard the barest softening of his voice.

"Tell me again how you got it," Mai asked, hating the quiver beneath her carefully practiced monotone.

And there it was: that moment's hesitation, that glitter of something refracting a myriad emotions, pain and love chief among them.

"Azula shot lightning." He'd gotten good at imitating her ennui, and added a wry twist of his lips. "And I intercepted it...badly." And that was all he ever said about it.

She wanted to call him on it. Wanted to beat her fists against that solid, marked chest until he told her the whole truth.

But what purpose would that have served? The scar would still be there serving as a blatant reminder of everything she'd done wrong, everything she'd couldn't fix...and everything she wasn't and would never be.


	51. Epilogues

**Not back for good, but I just thought I'd drop a line saying hi and thanks to everyone for their continued reviews and support. I am really REALLY close to getting published with a few contest wins and some promising leads with big and small publishers. Much of my success I owe to fanfiction and to the readers who've supported me throughout the years. I couldn't do it without you guys. I hope you'll visit my writer's blog at victoryessex dot blogspot dot com and keep up with my career!**

**

* * *

**

**Epilogues**

**

* * *

**

"What are you doing, Granma?"

Katara, her hands gnarled with age but still strong enough to hold a quill, glanced down to find her five-year-old grandson peering up at her.

"Just writing, dear."

"More stories about Grandpa?"

The old waterbender's heart sighed with sadness and memory. "No, dear. I finished those tales long ago. I'm writing new ones now. "

"About what?"

"Love stories, mostly." Her grandson made a face, and she laughed. "I don't have as much energy as I used to, otherwise I'd be writing you a fun adventure tale with sea monsters and evil bending pirates."

Despite his lack of enthusiasm for her genre of choice, the little boy with the huge gray eyes peeked over the edge of the desk at her neatly penned manuscript. His fingers tentatively traced along the edge of the stacked parchment paper, as if he could absorb their contents through his skin. "Why don't you write a story about the new Avatar?"

She chuckled. "They haven't found him or her yet, dear. How could I possibly write about someone I don't know?"

He shrugged. "Just…make it up. I mean, Grandpa used to make up all kinds of stories, didn't he?"

"Yes. I suppose he did." She smiled ruefully.

"Do you think it'll be a boy or girl this time? I mean, before Grandpa, there was Avatar Roku, so I think it'll be a girl."

"It could be."

"Do you think she'll be pretty?"

"I'm sure she will be."

"Do you think…do you think I'll ever get to meet her?"

Katara smiled down at the boy, knowing what he was really asking. "I think your grandpa would have very much liked you to. Even in times of peace and prosperity, the world still needs the Avatar. Never forget that."

He leaned his head against her leg. "I miss Grandpa."

"I do, too." She rose from the chair, her back aching, her hands sore. It was time to get away from her incessant writing and spend time with her family. She'd neglected young Zuko too long. "Come, let's find your mother. She's due any day now, and she's going to need your help especially to look after your new baby brother or sister."

* * *

**P.S. It's really a shame they never made a live-action movie, huh? Really, THEY NEVER MADE A LIVE ACTION MOVIE.**


End file.
